When Life Gives You Lemons
by JacAvoy85
Summary: Everything in Erik's life is fine for the most part, until his partner of seven years seventeen year old son shows up, Charles Xavier, who changes everything, dramatically. Underage. Charles/Erik. See inside for more details.


**A/N: So apparently I didn't get enough with "Extra Credit", I just had to go and write another underage story. *Checks for passport to Hell* Yep, got it. So uh, with that being said: if underage ain't your thing, you may want to leave now. I apparently have no morals, so I don't care. Also, incest?- -possibly, but not really. Erik makes a few comments about being Charles' father, but seeing how he and Charles aren't blood related at all, he's not. But still, I just wanted to add the warning, just in case. Also, if you have a trigger for infidelity, I would suggest steering clear of this one as well, because Erik's a bastard in here. No really; a huge fucking bastard. Please be warned, there will be infidelity.**

**Beta'd by the ever so helpful KitsuneNoThrill. Thanks again dear! (My soul is yours!)**

**Right, so, going to hell, and here's the story:**

Erik was sucking his boyfriend's cock when the call came- -and who still has answering machines let alone house lines anymore? Apparently he and his lover did- -whatever, that wasn't important; what was important was what the call was about.

"Just let it go to the machine," Shane said, holding Erik's head down on his cock to the point of choking.

So the machine got it, of course.

And when Erik pulled off his boyfriend's cock- -not because the man had come down his throat; no- -it was because of what was said over the answering machine.

"_Mister Roberts, this is Anna Smith from Child Services, I'm calling you today in regards to your son, Charles Xavier. It's very important that you contact me as soon as possible about this matter. You may reach me at…_"

As the number was being rambled off, Erik just stared up at his boyfriend- -_his boyfriend of seven years_- -before:

"You have a _son_?"

…

A seventeen year old son, to be exact; Fucking little punk that he probably was. Erik just stared at his lover, as the man rattled off the details, in shock.

A fucking seventeen year old son…..

_Good god_.

Apparently when Shane was 21 he knocked up some dame- -Sharon Xavier or something and-

_Wait_.

"You're _Bi_?" Erik asked in horror, once realization hit him, "Since when!?"

Shane winced. "I never told you?" he asked sheepishly.

Right, clearly that was another fight in and on its own; Perhaps another day. Erik didn't have the strength for all that right now.

Anyways, then Shane booked it the hell out of there; claimed it was a one night stand gone wrong.

Well apparently so, if he got the chick _pregnant_.

But Shane did two things wrong- -_okay, he did a lot of things wrong_- -but the two things that stuck out to Erik were: 1) he didn't claim any responsibility, and 2) he didn't sign his rights away either.

And now apparently this Sharon chick was dead. Like, completely fucking dead; Drug overdose. And seeing how Charles wasn't yet eighteen- -in fact, he had _just_ turned seventeen (Jesus, happy fucking birthday, your mom's dead) - - and he still needed a legal guardian to look after him.

That's where Shane came in; Shane who never once mentioned any of this to his life-partner of seven years, until now.

Well isn't that just fucking lovely? Erik always wanted kids.

_Not_.

"You know I don't want children," Erik said, looking critically at his boyfriend - -and he had every fucking right to be looking at him like that. How do you spend seven years with someone and NOT tell them that you have a fucking kid?- - as he crossed his arms over his chest. "We've already talked about this."

"Well what do you expect me to do Erik?" Shane asked, defensively. "He's my son."

"It would've been nice for me to have known that!"

Shane winced. "Well you do now…"

Erik buried his face in one hand, sighing. He looked back up at his lying lair of a lover. "I feel like I don't even know you," he said softly, his hand falling to his side again.

The blond made his way over closer to Erik. "Erik, baby, I know I should've told you before-" he cupped the taller man's cheek, "-and I'm sorry that I didn't, but…" He looked down. "I never thought he would ever pop back into my life." He glanced back up. "I'm sorry. I wish I would have told you before. But I can't go back in the past and change things." He smiled weakly. "But I can try and right what I did wrong all those years ago."

Erik looked deadpan at the man. "You're finally going to sign your rights away," he asked, _dryly_.

Shane made a face. "What?" He shook his head, "No."- -darn, Erik was really banking on that-

Shane crossed his arms over his chest and his words would give Erik nightmares for years to come. "I'm going to be the best darn father I can to him."

The planets must have just all aligned because never in Erik's life had he ever wanted to punch the man he loved in the face.

But he did now.

This really wasn't fair; Erik had never signed up for any of this.

But it appeared it was going to happen regardless.

Erik was going to be a stepfather. Well, sort of. And to a seventeen year old fucking kid no less.

Wonderful; what else could go wrong?

(If only Erik knew…)

…

They decided to turn Erik's workout room into the kid's….

"Wait, fuck no! Why does he get one of MY rooms? _You're_ the reason he's coming here, not me!"

…..

They decided to turn _Shane's_ old office into the kid's bedroom the day before he was due to get there. Shane was finishing up making the twin sized bed they bought at the secondhand store and Erik was checking the bottom drawers of the desk for porn.

No kid needed to find their parent's porn stash; and especially not Shane's.

Erik pulled out July's issue of "Balls and Cocks"- -really, could these titles get any more predicable?- -and glanced over at his lover. He cocked an eyebrow.

"What?" Shane said in his defense. "You knew about that." Erik just chuckled, lowering the magazine before he went in search of more. _God, they were going to have to clear their entire computer's history, weren't they?_ Erik looked up after a second, another thought crossing his mind.

"Does he know-" he looked to Shane, "-about…us?" He motioned between them. Shane looked at Erik for a moment, pillow in his hand. He shook his head. "No," he replied. "How would he?" Now Erik shrugged.

"Don't know," he admitted. "I didn't know what all you had to tell the lady from child services." A pause. "Did she ask?"

Shane laughed. Like, one bark of laughter. He looked right at his lover before coming near. "Yes Erik," he said with an eyeroll, "she asked if I was a fag and living with my life-partner." He rolled his eyes again before smacking Erik lightly with the pillow. "You're so lucky you're good looking."

Smiling, Erik swatted back at the other man before standing. "Just for _that_," he said as he picked up the issue of 'Balls and Cocks', "I'm taking this with me." He strode out of the room, Shane following shortly after.

"But that's my favorite issue! It features star spangled butt plugs!"

Erik wasn't sure how or if he should reply to that.

…

Later that night, in bed, Erik held Shane close as they lay there, breathless and satisfied. He looked down at the blond. "So, are we going to tell him, or are we going with the whole: I'm just your strange friend who hangs around all the time and shares a room with you route?"

A snort came from Shane and he cuddled up closer to Erik. "I was thinking we could go the creepy uncle route."

That resulted in a thump to the forehead. "Ow!" Shane laughed, rubbing the spot. He looked up at Erik. "Dead beat roommate?"

Erik just glared at him.

"Joking," Shane said, placing his face back down onto Erik's chest and sighing. He idly traced his fingers over the taller man's chest. "Of course we're going to tell him," he said softly. "I have nothing to hide." He canted his neck to glance up at Erik.

"I know," the younger (by three years) man said. He smiled down at Shane.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

…

"Do I look nervous? I think I'm nervous." Shane said as he scratched his arm for like, the tenth time, looking around the airport as if an escape door would magically appear from thin air.

Next to him, Erik sighed. He looked around, trying to spot the child services lady- -_brown hair, glasses, short and stout_. Great description, you just identified half the population of Maine- -before he looked to his steadily freaking out lover. "You're about to meet your son for the first time," he said, absolutely no hint of dryness to his otherwise chipper tone, "of course you're nervous." He went back to scanning the crowd, scowl on his face. Christ, why didn't they think to bring a fucking sign or something? This was stupid.

But then:

"_Erik_," Shane gasped, suddenly clinging onto his lover's arm, eyes wide. "Erik, I think that's him," he breathed, looking off in the distance at-

Yep, that was probably them: lady with a folder of papers, very businesslike vive radiating off her, glasses, short and stout. Check. Then Erik's eyes landed on the boy- -fuck, he was a boy- -next to her: his head down, floppy brown hair half covering his eyes- -he needed a haircut, Erik noted- -earbuds in his ears- -probably listening to whatever punk band was considered "cool" right now, Erik resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and…dear lord, what was he wearing; a cardigan over a button-up and slacks? Who wears that? Surely most seventeen year olds don't wear that.

He looked down to Shane and muttered: "You fathered _that_?" But the other man was too busy having a near panic attack to properly hear him.

Jesus Christ, somebody get the man a bag to breathe into.

Erik near rolled eyes before straightening back up and glancing back at the two people (child: one's a child…okay fine; one's a teenager, Erik will give him that) making their way closer. He didn't see anything too special about the boy- -and he didn't really look anything at all like Shane, now that he thought about it- -he looked just like a normal, seventeen year old boy, who was bound to get picked on in high school.

But then the boy looked up and- -_Christ_; Erik's heart nearly stopped in his chest- -those were some intense eyes. Erik blinked once, and then shook his head quickly. He knew the kid didn't get _those_ from his father. He would have remembered that sensation from the first time Shane looked at him.

The woman (smiling, of course she was smiling, this was a tense situation all around) stopped right in front of them (obviously she knew they were the right guys based on the hyperventilating man next to the less-than-pleased looking man) and asked: "Mister Roberts? Shane Roberts?"

But before either of them could respond (and, more than likely it would've been Erik responding for Shane, the man was squeaking like a dying mouse next to him with every breath), the kid spoke up first, soft, but firm. "Which one of you is my father?" he asked, glanced at both men with…_something_, in his eyes. Erik couldn't really tell. Perhaps this kid would grow up to be a murderer, who knew?

Shakily, Shane rose up a hand and choked out: "I am," a pause, "_son_."

And then Shane proceeded to ball like a fucking baby.

Fuck. Erik had to stop himself before he attempted to decapitate himself on the thingy that luggage came out of…what was it called? Oh well, whatever, because now Shane was sobbing (okay, this IS an emotional time for the man, perhaps Erik could be a bit kinder) and bringing the boy into a hug- -a crushing hug- -and telling him: "It's okay son, you're here now. We'll get through this. I'm going to be the best damn father you could imagine. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you before." A ragged breath, "I'm here now."

The child services lady- -Anna, right?- -just smiled as she watched the reunion, wiping away a single tear as she did- -Erik briefly wondered how many of these she's seen go horribly wrong- -before smiling up at Erik.

Erik…was not smiling. He was just looking at his lover as the man physically fell apart, still crushing the kid in his arms. 'Christ man, get a hold of yourself.' But then Erik looked to the boy- -Charles, fuck; his name is Charles. You can't call him "the boy" forever- -and noticed the look of…wait, is that…is that a "help me" look?

Charles flashed his eyes over to Erik, still being hugged constricting tight, and gave him a-

Yes! It WAS a "help me" look. Oh god, this was great. Erik felt like laughing. He watched as the boy- -_Charles_- -patted Shane's back awkwardly- -kind of in a: ew, okay, you can stop touching me now, gesture before peeling himself back, looking at his father with a-

Was he smiling? He was. It was a small, soft smile, one that said: 'It's okay. I'm fine. It's all going to be fine.'

And Erik wasn't sure why, but that sent a small tug through his heart. He didn't know what that tug meant- -and don't say _feelings_; because Erik doesn't have fucking feelings when it comes to shit like this- - he just knew that a tug was there.

He kind of wanted it to go away though, because for some reason, it didn't feel right.

After the emotional train left the station, proper introductions were made: "Anna Smith, nice to meet the both of you." "Anna, Shane Roberts, and this is Erik Lehnsherr; my partner." "Charles, _son_, this is Erik, he'll be living with us too, he's my boyfriend (and to Erik's surprise, Charles didn't even flinch when Shane had said that), I hope that's okay with you."

Charles just looked up at his father and shrugged. "S' fine. I guess." He looked down at his shoes.

Anna was the next to speak. "Charles, sweetie-" she placed both hands on his shoulders, pointing him towards the luggage carousal- -_luggage carousal! That's what it's called_- - and smiled, "-why don't you go get your suitcases while your father and I finish up?"

"I'll go with you," Erik said, for some reason. He frowned. What the hell? The kid could get his own damn luggage.

"Thank you," Shane said, giving his lover a: you're-going-to-be-such-a-great-stepdad look. And Erik wanted to protest this look strongly but the other man had already turned away to sign the papers that Miss Smith had brought with her. So instead, he went over to where Charles was, looking for his suitcases, and stood next to him.

Kid was kind of short.

"So," Erik said after a beat, slowly hating his life, "do you…want me to pick up some beer or something…for when we get home?"

Charles, who finally pulled one of his earbuds out, just looked up at the taller man, questioning look on his face, and said: "I'm seventeen. Are you really offering to buy me beer?"

Erik seriously debated jumping on the _luggage carousal_ and seeing how far away it would take him from here. He looked down the line. _Darn, not far enough_. And apparently he'd just be circling back. Damn it. He glanced back at Charles and gave him a sheepish look and shrugged, "I'm not your father; I don't give a shit if you get drunk," then smiled. And wouldn't you know it; Charles smiled back, all teeth and lips.

"Okay then," he replied. "I would love some beer in that case."

Little did Shane know, but his lover was slowly corrupting his son.

No, actually, Erik hadn't even _begun_ with the real corrupting…

…

"You told him what?" Shane nearly screeched, in the car, on the way home.

"That we'd get some beer," Erik replied calmly, driving to the nearest gas station. He looked over at Shane. (Charles was in the backseat trying not to smile. He just looked out the window and hid his mouth with a hand.) "Why?"

"Wh-_why_?" Shane sputtered in response, looking at the crazy man next to him. "Why?! Probably because he's _seventeen_: not twenty-one! Seventeen is NOT twenty-one!" He looked at Erik like he was a buffoon.

Which, he was.

Shrugging, Erik just glanced to his boyfriend. "How old were you when you started drinking?" he inquired.

"I-" Shane started. His mouth snapped shut. He looked out the window. "Shut up."

Case and point.

Erik looked in the rearview mirror. "Charles, do you smoke?"

The boy looked up at him, a smile on his face. "I do, yes."

A cigarette came flying back at him.

"Don't tell your father."

Shane sighed, looking out the window, cheek smashed against his palm. "I hate you both," he muttered as Erik pulled into the gas station.

…

Charles was shown to his room. (_"You can paint the walls whatever color you want," Shane said, "just not black, please." Charles shrugged, looking around the tidy room. "It's fine," he commented, looking at the walls. "This color is fine." His eyes then landed on the desk. "Cool, a desk." He looked back at his father (Erik was in the doorway trying not to snicker, thinking about the previous contents of the bottom drawer) "Can I use this?" he asked and Shane smiled. "Of course, son, this is your house now, too._") Charles unpacked (for the most part) and then headed back downstairs.

Erik tossed him a beer the second he hit the kitchen; which was more like the kitchen/living room, seeing how both were open to each other. Charles caught the beer and cocked an eyebrow at the man. "Really, you were serious?"

Shrugging himself, Erik twisted his own cap off. "What? You think I bought this twelve-pack just to drink in front of you?" He took a drink, as to demonstrate. "I'm not an ass." Well that was debatable depending on whom you asked. "Besides," Erik went on as he set his bottle down and turned back to his pot of water on the stove- -_boil damn it_- -he covered it with a lid, "it's not like you have school or anything tomorrow." He peeked under the lid again. _Damn it_. He turned back and looked at the brunet. "I hope you like pasta, because that's what we're having."

A smile, and then: "Pasta's fine." He twisted his own cap off before taking a quick drink, and then winced. Erik was going to act like he didn't see that. "Um, actually," Charles said after he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "I was wanting to talk to you, er, well, I guess…Shane, about my schooling."

"You're going and that's the end of it," Shane said as he came down the stairs. He looked right at his son. "No if's and's or but's." Charles smiled, ducking his head.

"Yes, I know," he said and then looked back up. "I was actually going to say that I would like to start as soon as possible; I don't want to fall behind."

Erik's pretty sure he dropped the box of pasta in his hand- -no, wait: he did!- -he whipped his head around to look at the boy. Did he just really say that? He…he _wants_ to go to school? As soon as possible? As to…as to _not_ fall behind?

Jesus Christ, he's pretty sure he's never heard a seventeen year old say that before.

It was…refreshing.

"Okay," Shane said, coming more into the kitchen and reaching over by Erik to grab a glass from the wine wrack. He placed his hand on Erik's lower back as he maneuvered around him; Charles' eyes instantly fell to that spot. "I can't take you tomorrow because I have work, but we can go-"

"I'll take him," Erik said, picking up pasta off the counter. He turned and looked at his lover. "I don't have work tomorrow." He shrugged. "I'll swing him by the local high school. We have his birth certificate, right?" Shane nodded.

"Yeah, the child services chick brought it with her."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Her name was Anna," he muttered.

"You sure, babe?" Shane asked as his hand stayed firm on Erik's lower back, slowly moving more to the man's side. Charles eyed his dad's hand. "You don't have to," he said. "He's my responsibility." But Erik just smiled.

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied. "I don't mind, really." What else was Erik going to do tomorrow; jerkoff on the couch?

Oh, right, he was. Whelp, not anymore; now his mastbatory times were limited to the bedroom and bathroom, thanks a lot Charles!

No, he really didn't mean that.

Shane smiled brightly up at his boyfriend. "Thanks babe," he murmured, and then pressed up and kissed Erik. Erik closed his eyes, kissing him back quickly. Charles felt his cheeks flush, but he didn't look away. When Shane came back down, his cheeks tinted red as well, he turned to face his son. "Sorry about that," he said as he swept past Erik and went to the fridge. "Hope a little bit of PDA doesn't bother you," he said as he opened the door and reached in for a bottle of moscato. He glanced back at Charles. "Because that's how we've been living for the last seven years," he said matter-factly, but not unkindly. He smiled.

Charles just shrugged. "S' fine with me." He took another drink of his beer and looked away.

After dinner, Shane thought it best to get the "let's talk about your mother" chat out of the way. He knew it was going to be long and painful, but deemed it necessary. Charles hadn't yet said anything about her, or her death, and they both (Erik and Shane) knew that he needed someone to talk to about it. So both Erik and Shane sat on the couch, hand and hand, ready for what was sure to be a long conversation.

Charles just chuckled. "Sharon wasn't a mother; she was more like an alcoholic, drug abusing parasite. The damn maid was more of a mother than her."

Oh. Well.

That went a lot more smoothly than Erik had thought. Poor boy, he never really knew either of his parents.

Sad look on his face, Shane tried again. "Son," he said softly, "is there anything that you want to know about me-" he swallowed, "-and your mother?" A pause, "like, how you came to be?"

Dear lord was Shane trying to give him the "birds and the bees" talk? The kid's seventeen. Erik's pretty sure he gets the mechanics of sex. Perhaps it's time to take Shane's wine away. He started reaching for it-

Another laugh broke free from Charles' mouth. "Oh please," he said, looking at his father, "Sharon already told me all about you (Shane's face fell. He couldn't help but be hurt by that. For some reason…), in fact, I'm pretty sure since the day I was born." He looked off to the side in thought. "Here, let me think." He looked back at Shane with a smile. "One night stand and then she never saw you again, right?"

Shane just stared, eyes wide and unblinking.

Yep, that sounded like Sharon all right.

"She did not actually say that to you?" Shane finally asked after a second, still staring.

"Oh," Charles said as he brought his beer to his lips, "she did."

Erik looked over to his lover with a smile. "And you didn't marry her why?" he inquired with peeked interest (and rising!).

"Shut up," Shane just grumbled as he swatted at Erik. He looked back to Charles. "Son," he said almost pained like, as if he were about to cry like he did at the airport (Erik went for the wine again), "I just want you to know that I was young, and dumb, and scared, and…and.." a sniffle. "I know what I did was wrong and-"

But Charles cut him off with a hand, "it's fine," he said and shook his head, "you don't have to explain." Mainly because he didn't want an explanation. He smiled at his father, a smile that tugged at Erik's heartstrings again (_what the hell?_). "It's all in the past." Charles got up, taking his empty beer bottle with him as he did. "If you don't mind though, I'm rather tired; I think I'm going to go to bed now." He walked over to the couch and placed his hand on Shane's shoulder. "Goodnight, Shane," he said, and then looked to Erik next. (Erik swallowed. Why was his throat suddenly tight?) "Erik," he nodded in acknowledgement, and then went to the kitchen to throw away his bottle.

"I'm going to be the best damn father I can!" Shane called out to Charles as the boy climbed the stairs. "The best damn father _ever_!" He choked back a sob. "You hear me?"

Once Charles was gone, and probably well traumatized, Erik glanced back over at Shane. "Shall I get you a "_#1 Dad!_" mug for your desk?"

"Shut up."

…

"I think I've seen this place before," Charles commented as Erik and he walked up to the local high school, "on the news."

"Don't be a smartass," Erik replied, flicking his cigarette away before they reached the doors. He was pretty sure that smoking even on the grounds was forbidden, but did he look like someone who gave a shit? He glanced at Charles. "You're probably right though."

Once inside, Erik leaned over the reception's desk. "Uh, yeah, I'm here to register my-" He froze. What was he supposed to say here? Kid I just met the other day? Sort of stepson but not really? My lover's bastard child whom I just found out about the other day? What the serious hell? "-_son_," he found himself choking out instead. _Oh god_. Why did he just say that? Charles' eyebrows rose. He looked up at Erik.

"Okay," the nice girl behind the desk said with a smile to match. "And did you guys just move here?" She looked from Charles to Erik. She _had_ to see there was no resemblance between them. Erik was positive the police were going to show up soon.

"Yes," Charles spoke up for him, giving Erik an odd look. "Well, I did at least. I just came here from New York."

"New York! Wonderful," the girl behind the desk said as she pulled up a file on her computer. Erik just stared at her. Clearly she'd never been to New York before (man had a bad experience there once, leave him alone). "I'll just need to get a copy of your birth certificate and the name of the last school you went to so we can get your records over here." She looked up at Erik, "Name of his last school?"

Erik just stared.

"Um, I get all that for you," Charles said, stepping up more to the desk. Erik took that as cue to leave. What the fuck was he doing here anyway? He was still stuck on: _my son_. Why had he said that? Charles wasn't his son, far from it actually. He took a seat in one of the chairs along the wall as Charles- -_not his son_- -filled the poor girl in behind the desk.

She was going to call the police, after this, Erik was sure of it.

Just then, the door to the principal's office flew open and women- -who _radiated_ power- -came strolling out. Blonde hair, high heels, white suit and, did Erik mention _power_? Jesus Christ, she could probably take a whole nation down with just one look.

Oh, did Erik forget to mention: _smoking hot_.

She stopped in her tracks when she spotted Erik.

A smile curled on her lips.

"Please tell me you're one of my student's fathers?" She said with a seductive grin.

Erik looked behind him. Oh. She was really talking to him? He swallowed before smiling back. He nodded over to Charles, who was still at the reception's desk.

The woman's eyes found Charles before she glanced back to Erik. "Principal Frost," she said as she extended a hand (Erik stood up, remembering his manners). "_Emma_ Frost," she corrected.

Erik had never been more terrified in his life. He shook her hand. "Erik," he replied, and then blinked. Damnit, he missed his one chance at introducing himself like James Bond. _Lehnsherr, Erik Lehnsherr_. Perhaps next time.

Just then, the reception's voice cut in.

"Yes, this is Sandy over at Cedar Brooke High, in Portland Maine, I have a transfer student over here who previously was in attendance at your school, a-" she looked at her computer, "-Charles Xavier-" Sandy rambled off some more information and Emma turned her attention back to Erik with a smile.

"Just moved here, huh?" She then looked back over to Charles before Erik could correct her that no, Erik's been here all his life.

"You, Charles, is it?" (Charles cocked an eyebrow at the woman in white). She smiled at him. "I expect you to cause lots of trouble and be in my office constantly." She glanced back at Erik, noting he did NOT have a ring on his finger. "So I have to call your father in for many, many conferences," she added with a purr.

Holy shit! Was this really happening? Erik started looking around for witnesses.

Charles just cocked his eyebrow even more before he said: "As you wish, ma'am," with a mock solute. He turned back to the desk. Jesus Christ, how did she still have a job?

Emma looked Erik up and down before: "Mm, I do look forward to it, _Mr. Xavier_." She then turned to walk away.

Xavier? What the…

"Lehnsherr," Erik called out to her. "It's Lehnsherr, actually." He winced. Why did he just say that? It didn't matter; he was never coming back here again. Principal Frost stopped in her tracks, again, and turned to face her prey; her smile even more pronounced.

"Oh," she said sweetly, "my mistake. He kept his mother's last night?" She asked innocently, like she _didn't_ know what she was doing.

Still:

Erik nodded. "Something like that."

"Ah," Emma's eyebrows rose, once. "I see. (She looked him up and down again). Well, it was nice to meet you, _Mr. Lehnsherr_," she purred.

And then she was gone.

After Charles was done, all of his advanced classes set up, and they were walking back to the front doors, Erik grabbed him by the arm and hissed at him:

"You are not to get into one heap of trouble while you are here, you understand me?"

…

On the drive back home, both Erik and Charles sat in silence; Erik driving and Charles looking out the window.

Neither of them spoke, tense silence curling around them.

Until:

A small smile spread over Charles' face, slowly turning into a large one. He chuckled softly; his shoulders shaking up and down and before he knew it he was full out laughing, Erik joining in with him after his façade broke as well: both men laughing to the point of near hysteria.

After a second, Erik reached over and punched Charles in his upper arm playfully. "Ow," Charles laughed, and then: "You looked like you were going to piss your pants back there," he got out between more laughs, clutching his arm where Erik's fist had landed.

They both laughed some more, it dying down to giggles before they both got ahold of themselves finally. Charles wiped a tear away as Erik made a right turn, still chuckling lightly.

Peaceful silence, and then:

"Don't tell Shane," Erik said as he made a left now.

"Oh," Charles replied as he reached for Erik's pack of smokes, "I'm so telling him."

…

"My principal wants to fuck Erik," Charles announced, the second they got home, as if right on cue. The bastard.

"What?" Shane's head popped up from the magazine he was reading. He looked over to Erik as he made his way in the door behind Charles. "Oh, so that's why it's almost-" he looked at the clock, "-six-thirty, before you two got home?" He shot his lover a displeased look. But Erik just snorted, coming around the couch.

"No. I took the kid to see a movie after." He sat down next to Shane's feet and took one in his lap. Charles eyed Erik's hands from the kitchen as he took a drink from his soda. "We had nothing else to do today."

Shane just looked at him, not amused (but he was enjoying the foot rub; he put his other one in Erik's lap as well). "A movie only takes two hours tops (unless it's a Peter Jackson film, then you're looking at three, fuck), what else did you two do?"

"Erik took me to a strip club," Charles chimed in happily. He twisted the cap back on his soda bottle and set it down on the counter before giving Erik a smug smile.

Shane's eyes just widened as he glanced back to his lover. "Erik!"

"No I didn't," Erik replied with an eyeroll. He shot Charles a look before his eyes found Shane again. "We did a two-for-one at the theater, that's why it's so late before we got home."

Shane looked genuinely confused. And he should be, because:

"What's a two-for-one?"

Still rubbing his lover's foot, Erik just smiled as he explained. "Two-for-one, my dear, is where you pay for one movie and then sneak into another after it's over."

If possible, Shane looked more horrified.

"You have to time it right though," Charles said as he came over to the couch. He sat down next to Erik. (Erik's heart sped up…for some reason…) "You have to make sure the first movie you pick ends at the same time as the other one you want to see starts, or you'll look suspicions sitting in an empty theater 30 minutes or so before the movie starts." He looked at the man next to him and smiled (Erik's heart doing that weird pumping fast thing again). "Erik taught me that."

An eyeroll from Shane, "Jesus, I'm beginning to think the strip club would've been better," he grumbled.

"It would've been more educational than the movies we saw," Erik pointed out. Shane just closed his eyes and shook his head, placing his feet more in Erik's lap as his boyfriend massaged them. He let out a contempt sound from deep within his throat. "Mm, you two are terrible," he murmured as Erik's hand took him away.

Charles stared at his father's feet being pampered by the other man. He then looked up at Erik, who was smiling at his lover as his hands worked. He felt a ping of… something… in his chest. "Next time we go see a movie though, I think we should see if my shank of a principal wants to go," he said, smiling. "She's probably just dying to get Erik in the dark."

That got Erik to remove his hands. He nudged Charles slightly with his elbow before reaching out to rumple his hair, "You little brat!" He laughed, "I told you not to bring that up again." Charles laughed too, as Erik pushed him again, swatting the older man's hand away.

"I'm sorry," the brunet chuckled, "I couldn't help it." He sat back up, still smiling at Erik, "I saw the way she looked at you."

Shane's eyes flew back open. "Yeah, wait, I wanted to hear more about this." He sat up more on the couch. "So what happened there? Do I have to go down there and kick someone's ass?"

A snort, "Good luck with that," Erik said as he got up. "That woman's scary as shit. I wouldn't even go up against her. She has this wicked glare that could turn you to ice." He leaned down and placed a quick kiss to Shane's lips. Charles watched, annoyance building within, as his teeth gritted together.

"Well was she hot at least?" Shane inquired, after Erik pulled back. He watched his lover make his way to the kitchen. Erik just shrugged, grabbing the stack of mail before shuffling through it.

"I don't know; I didn't pay attention, I was too busy trying to plan my escape." He looked up, looking back to Charles. "Charles, what did you think? She hot?"

A shrug from the teen. "I don't know," he muttered, awkwardly, "she's my principal," and then looked away.

"Okay, clearly I need to go down there and see for myself," Shane commented. He got up off the couch as well and made his way over to where Erik was. "She may be icy, but she hasn't met this flame yet!" He snapped his fingers.

Erik tried his goddamn hardest not to laugh. It was killing him, slowly. "Did you just make a gay joke on yourself?"

Shane's hand fell. "I think I just did…"

But Erik just smiled, all his teeth showing. In his former life, the man was no doubt a shark, or a tyrannosaurus. He brought the blond man closer with a hand to the waist. "You're so fucking cute," he said before sealing their lips together.

Charles got up and left the room, slamming his door shut once upstairs.

Both men pulled away, Erik looking towards the stairwell. "What's wrong with the kid?"

Shane just shrugged, turning away. "Who knows? He's a teenager."

Yeah, he was, wasn't he?

…

Charles made friends, easily enough, Erik discovered upon the boy's first day at school. He even brought them home with him. And he wasn't selective with whom he hung out with either. It seemed all types went.

Day after day, Charles would bring a new one home:

Sean, who Erik pegged the second he walked through their front door, was the residential pot-head. Perhaps it was the goofy grin, or the red eyes, or maybe just plain that the kid smelled like fucking weed gave it away. Erik didn't care though; he knew the kid would be useful to him at least.

Darwin, which Erik was sure wasn't the kid's real name; probably just a nickname, was the cool, gets along with everyone type guy. He seemed very down to earth and mellow. Someone Erik would like to hang out and chill with after getting high on Sean's weed.

Hank, who was clearly the nerd of the bunch- -but that didn't bother Erik; Charles was a bit of a nerd himself- -was nervous a lot, very twitchy. Erik briefly wondered if the kid though he was going to beat him up or something; he flinched every time Erik spoke.

Erik wasn't that intimidating, was he?

Alex, of course, Erik pegged right away as the jock. No doubt there. He even asked the boy outright.

"You play football?"

The blond nodded up at him. "Quarterback," he replied proudly, crossing his well-toned arms over his chest.

Erik nearly snorted, "You banging the head cheerleader too?" He muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

The kid was good looking too, Erik didn't doubt that he would be prom king one day, or whatever was important to high schoolers these days. If he wasn't fucking the head cheerleader, he should be.

Maybe he was fucking Frost.

Erik even caught Shane checking the boy out; just a quick once over, a smile tugging on the man's lips. Erik shot him a very disapproving look, to which Shane just shrugged and whispered: "What? He's eighteen, right?"

Later that night though, Shane got his when he caught Erik; head cocked and staring, as the blond was bent over putting his shoes back on to leave. He promptly thwamped Erik upside his head with a "told you" as he walked by.

Erik's never once blushed in his life until that incident.

Another day, Charles brought home Raven, and that was different. She was kind and polite; knew all her manners. ("_Thank you for having me over, Charles_." And "_It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lehnsherr. You have such a lovely home_.") She was pretty too, a little too pretty for Charles, but that still didn't stop Erik from asking:

"So, you nailing that Raven chick?" After she'd gone home of course. Charles looked up from his homework, to the man leaning in his doorway, in horror.

"What?" he said in; serious disgust. It threw Erik off. The taller man just cock his head to the side, still leaning against the doorframe and arms crossed.

"You and Raven? You two fucking?"

"No!" Charles put his pencil down and looked- -really looked- -at the other man. "She's just my friend."

A smirk tugged at Erik's lips. "Hey, I don't give a fuck if you are nailing her; you just better make sure you don't knock her up. Your father would have a shit."

"I'm not fucking her, Erik!" And, maybe it was Erik's imagination, but the kid seemed genuinely pissed off at the accusation.

"All right," Erik said as he put his hands up, defeated. He let them drop and gave a shrug. "I don't see why you aren't though," he added before turning and leaving.

Charles' pencil snapped in two.

…

The next day, after school, Charles brought home Angel.

Jesus Christ.

She was a stripper (or a hooker), if Erik ever saw one. He even thought about asking what club she worked at, but realized that might result in a very angry phone call from the girl's parents (or pimp- -all possibilities were open with her).

Seriously though: a fucking stripper. If her tight black mini skirt, hooker boots—and Erik knows all about hooker boots; he's worn his pair or two…okay, nobody needs to know about that, anyways—heavily applied black eyeliner and tattoos were anything to go by.

But that's not what bothered Erik about her; he didn't care if she was the resident skank- -although he did make a mental note to warn Charles about STDs and shit like that the second she left- -what bothered Erik about her was her annoying laugh. The way that she practically squealed like a pig when Charles made a grab at her side- -and what the fuck were they doing in the living room anyway? Don't teenagers normally hang out in their room when they want to fuck?- -and the way she would bat the brunet's hand away with a "Charles! You know I'm ticklish! Stop!"

Erik, who was at the kitchen table working on his laptop, could only roll his eyes so many times- -_god she was annoying_. He tried to tune them out, but after about ten minutes or so of their nonstop flirting and giggling, he snapped his laptop closed and stood, walking across the room and to the stairs. He had had enough of that shit.

Charles, who had Angel pinned down; both her wrists in his hands, just looked up as Erik stormed past, watching as the man climbed the stairs and disappeared.

"Charles?" Came Angel's voice from below, wondering why he'd stop tickling her. She squirmed out from underneath him after a second, sitting up again. "So," she said as she tucked her hair behind her ear, "you want to go to your room or something?"

Still looking off towards the stairwell, Charles just smiled before turning his attention back on the girl. "No," he replied, "I got homework to do." Angel frowned. "I'll see you tomorrow though," he said as he stood from the couch, extending his hand to her to help her up.

"Oh," Angel said simply, taking his hand. "Okay." She was honest-to-god confused; she thought for sure they'd be making out by now.

After Charles saw her to the door- -and didn't kiss her goodbye- -he came back into the living room and flopped down on the couch, turning the TV on and propping his feet up.

Slowly, a smile curled around his lips. He was proud of what he accomplished here today.

…

Thursday night, Charles was sitting in the living room, finishing up what homework he had when he looked up, spotting both Erik and Shane in the kitchen together.

"Please?" Shane asked, giving Erik _the_ most pathetic eyes ever. (Charles wanted to roll his.) So that's who he gets that trait from. He set his pen down and watched.

Sighing, Erik just turned his face to his lover, abandoning his quest to open the bottle of wine he had on the counter. "You know I hate making that," he told the other man. "It's takes like, forever to do."

"I know," Shane nearly whined, hence the bottle of wine Erik was opening for him, haha, "but I just love it so much. And No one can make it quite like you." He even batted his eyes goddamn it.

"You mean _you_ can't make it," Erik pointed out. He went back to the bottle of merlot.

"Erik, please," Shane tried again. He placed his hand on the man's lower back. (Charles cocked his head to the side.) "If not for me, then Charles? I'll bet he's never had timpano before." He glanced over to his son in the living room. "Charles, have you ever had timpano before?"

Charles just shrugged. He'd never even heard of it.

"See?" Shane looked back at Erik, sad eyes included. He rubbed the hand that was on his boyfriend's lower back smoothly. "Please baby?"

After a second Erik sighed, signaling his defeat. "Yay!" Shane bounced up and placed a kiss to the taller man's cheek. "Thanks babe, you're the best."

"Whatever," Erik mumbled. He glanced at the clock; 5:34 pm. Better get started now. Yippee. He briefly wondered if a corkscrew to the eyeball was as painful as it sounded.

…

"That…that is a huge pile of meat," Charles commented as he stared at the- -well, yes: huge pile of meat- -that was the best way to describe it. He poked it with his fork.

"Stop it," Erik slapped Charles' fork away. He took a seat as Shane was just coming over with a bottle of wine for the table.

"Can I have some?" Charles asked when Shane set the bottle down.

"It's a school night," Erik pointed out. Charles just looked at the older man.

"So?"

For a moment, Erik just stared at him. He shrugged. "All right, fine."

Charles smiled as Shane poured his son a glass.

After that was settled, Charles poked at the "timpano", as so called, once again. "So, what exactly am I about to partake in?" It looked downright terrifying if you asked him. Erik slapped his fork away once more, giving Charles a look as he did, before explaining. "It's kind of a giant meat in a crust. It contains meat (obviously), cheese, pasta, tomato sauce and hard boiled eggs, all layered and baked in a pie crust."

Charles made a face. "I see…" He then looked to Erik. "And for dessert, will it be coming alive and dancing for us?"

"Only if you're lucky," Shane said as he made the first cut. Clearly he wasn't paying one heap of attention.

Narrowing his eyes, Erik shot Charles a "don't-be-a-smart-ass" look. He was fairly sure Charles got the gist of it. He took a drink of his wine before serving himself as well. Might as well try his own blood, sweat, and tears. Charles smiled over his wineglass, taking a sip as he watched Erik cut into the monstrosity O' meat.

What an interesting family they've become.

After dinner, as Erik was in the kitchen finishing up dishes- -and why the fuck Shane didn't have dish duty was still a mystery to Erik; HE did all the cooking, the least his lover could do was the dishes- -Erik was startled by Charles coming up behind him.

"Jesus Charles," he said when he noticed the boy standing right by him, "you're stealthy." He put a plate in the dry wrack. "You here to help?" he asked as he reached for another plate. Or just here to distract Erik? Shrugging, Charles just said: "Sure, why not?" He looked around. "Where's Shane? Why isn't he helping?" Like Charles was really bothered by his father's absences.

A chuckle, "You noticed that too, huh?" He motioned for Charles to finish clearing the table. "Your father has this habit of disappearing suddenly when the meal's over." He rinsed the plate in cold water. "When we first started dating, seven years ago, he used to sneak off to the restroom when we went out to dinner, right before the bill got to the table." He chuckled again at the memory. "I don't know why either, I was always the one to ask him out; he should've known I planned on paying." He placed the dish in the wrack to dry and turned to face Charles.

"So what you're telling me-" Charles said as he made his way closer to Erik, wineglasses in hand, "-is that my father is a cheap ass."

A snort, "You can say that." He reached for the glasses, slightly touching Charles' fingers in the process. He turned and dumped them (gently) in the sink of bubbly water and started washing, suddenly wondering why his cheeks felt warm.

Perhaps the water he was using to wash with was too hot.

"Hey Erik, can I ask you a question," Charles said out of nowhere. He placed his hand on the man's lower back. Erik nearly broke the wineglass in his hand, for he found he was holding it entirely too hard for some reason. He loosened his grip on it and looked down at Charles before nodding; words seemed to be failing him at the moment. What the hell?

"It's about Friday night, actually," he started, moving his hand more to the center of Erik's back (Erik felt something surge through his body; a jolt, perhaps?) "I was wondering if I could have some friends over, you know, to stay the night?" He looked up at Erik with pleading (blue, so fucking blue) eyes. "Please? I promise we won't be total shits."

Erik had to suck in a small breath—for reasons yet unknown to him—before he gave the boy a look.

"You want me to buy beer for all your little friends, don't you?" Wow, that was difficult to get out for some reason. What the serious hell?

A sheepish look, "It doesn't have to be beer…"

Erik sighed, shaking his head as he looked back towards the sink, still aware of the searing heat on his back. "Jesus Christ Charles…" and he ALMOST finished that with: "_you're just like your father_", but something about that just didn't seem right to him. Something told him NOT to say that, not to admit that. The hand on his back moved a quarter of an inch up.

"Please? All my friends think you're pretty cool- -they just want to hang out here."

So many things wrong about that statement…

Erik sighed, again, looking down at his soapy hands that were now braced on the counter. He was going to give in, he just knew it. He couldn't say no to those blue eyes.

But then, he had a thought.

"No girls," he said firmly, looking back at Charles. In other words: No Angel. There was only so much of that girl's laugh he could take.

A victory smile from Charles, "Thanks, Erik," he said and then removed his hand. Erik felt he could breathe again suddenly. Odd.

"Hey wait," he hollered out before the brunet got too far. Charles turned back to face him, smile still on his face. _Damn that smile; now THAT was like his father's_. "Why'd you ask me and not Shane? He's your father, not me." He just wanted to make that clear. Crystal clear.

Charles just shrugged. "I was going to. I just figured if I went to him with a: "Erik said it was cool", I'd have a better chance at getting him to say yes as well." Another brilliant smile, one that softened the boy's eyes.

The taller man just looked at him for a moment, those words playing over and over again in his head. He finally nodded.

"Smart kid."

…

That night, Erik fucked Shane on their bed, holding the man's legs bent as he plowed into him.

"Oh god Erik, yes," the blond cried out as his lover fucked him into the mattress.

"Shh," Erik shushed the man as he leaned down, sweaty and flushed, and placed a kiss to his lips. "You don't want Charles to hear us," he said with a hushed, yet thick, voice as he pulled back, still snapping his hips into his lover.

Shane just made a face, canting his hips up more to meet Erik's powerful thrusts. "I don't give a crap if he hears- -he's seventeen- -he knows what sex is." Another long moan left his mouth as Erik switched angles.

"Well I do care," Erik said between harsh breaths, and then leaned down again to seal their lips together again, swallowing the man's moans and gasps.

One room over, Charles gritted his teeth as he turned up the volume on his IPod more, before grabbing his pillow and stuffing it over his face.

Fucking assholes.

…

Friday evening, Erik got to observe firsthand what all of Charles' little friends together in one room would be like.

It was… terrifying at best. Fucking teenage boys is what they all were: loud, obnoxious, and probably smelly too. Christ.

At least that Angel chick wasn't there.

Erik watched with crossed arms as he leaned against the island counter, wondering when would be the best time to interrogate the red headed one about his weed.

He knew the kid was holding out on him.

"Dude, come on Hank, how hard is it? Just hook up the damn Wii already. I thought you were, like, a scientist or something," the blond football player- -Alex, had said, reaching out with his foot to nudge Hank in the behind. How juvenile.

"Yes, Alex," Hank grumbled as he reached around their giant flat-screen TV to find the outlet, "because it takes a scientist to hook up a game console." He turned back around and looked at the blond. "Is that why you never managed to get your X-Box hooked up?" He flashed a smile.

Erik snorted. Nice burn.

Alex turned a soft shade of red. "Just, shut up," he muttered. "You know what I meant."

"Come on guys, less flirting, more game console hooking up. I'm ready to play," Darwin said, looking at both of them and rolling his eyes before he got up and made his way into the kitchen. "Sup Mr. L," he said upon arrival.

Erik nodded at the boy before coming off the counter and going to the fridge; opening it. "And it's 'Erik' by the way, none of that 'Mister' B.S. You'll make me feel old." He already had Charles for that, thanks. He glanced in the fridge as Darwin chuckled.

"Whatever suits you," the teen said.

Erik pulled his head out the fridge a second later. "I hope you boys all like tacos, because that's what I'm making," he announced before closing the door again. Hopefully none of them were vegetarians.

But if so, he'd chase em' around the house with the leftover timpano, because that's just the type of guy Erik is.

"That's cool," Darwin said with a shrug. "Most parents would've just ordered pizza or something like that; I actually think it's cooler that you're going to cook for us."

Smiling that smile that entails way too many teeth, Erik just replied: "Well I'm not a parent, now am I?"

A nod. "You're right on that," Darwin agreed.

Erik pulled the fridge door open again after a second and looked back in it. He frowned. "I'm probably going to need more ground beef though," he observed, then glanced out into the living room. "You; Alex, what do you eat, for like two?"

Alex shrugged. "Or more."

Darwin raised his hand. "Might as well me down for "or more" if you're taking a poll." Erik looked back in the fridge at the package of beef. Sean was probably already blitzed out of his mind, so yeah- -all the others included- -they'd need more ground beef. _A lot_ more.

"Okay, then I need to run to the store, we'll need more food." He said as he shut the door.

"Hey, I'll go with you," Alex said, out of nowhere. Charles' head whipped over and he shot his friend a look. The blond just shrugged. "What? Your dad's cool," he said in response.

"He's not my dad," Charles muttered, unsure why it felt important to say that. Out loud.

"Beside, Bozo here's taking forever to set this thing up. He probably still won't be done by the time we get back."

Hank just sighed with an eyeroll, placing the Wii console upright on the TV stand. "Done," he announced.

"Whatever, I'm still going with him," Alex said as he headed out of the living room and into the kitchen. Charles narrowed his eyes at the blond. He didn't like that, him going with Erik, for some reason.

Right as they were set to leave, Charles called out to him. "Hey Erik, would you pick me up a pack of smokes?" He smiled at the older man, quite brilliantly too. Like he _didn't_ know what he was doing.

Staring at the younger man, Erik just cocked an eyebrow. Charles' smile got wider. He sighed. "Camel lights, right?"

Charles nodded. "Thanks, Erik," he said softly.

That boy was going to be the end of him.

…

"Dude, will you buy me this?" Alex asked as he turned to Erik.

Erik took one look at what the boy was holding up. "No," he said before snatching the magazine out of his hand and putting it back on the shelf, higher. Why do they even carry those types of magazines in grocery stores anyway? At least there was a plastic cover around it he supposed. He arched an eyebrow at Alex. "We're here for ground beef and ground beef only," he told him.

Now it was Alex who cocked an eyebrow. "So that's why you got a cart?"

A pause.

"And booze."

Alex was possibly the happiest fucking teenager in the world at that moment.

…

"We have booze!" Alex announced happily upon their return, two twelve packs in hand. Erik could've sighed. Say it a little louder next time, the cop next door didn't quite hear you.

"Yay!" Shane said from the couch, looking happy as a lark. Oh good, he's home now. He can help. "And ground beef," Erik added as he came in behind Alex.

"Boo." That was Shane again. Erik rolled his eyes as he made his way to the kitchen counter.

"I know you don't like taco night, but it's the easiest thing that I can make for a herd of hungry teenagers." And he wanted to add: _and remember, I didn't sign up for this_, but felt it was a little late for that conversation.

"I also talked him into making guacamole for us as well," Alex added, looking back at Erik as he set the beer down on the counter. "We bought all the avocadoes they had, it was hilarious."

Shane cocked his head back to look at his lover. "Really?" He liked Erik's guacamole at least.

A shrug, and then Erik held up one bag stuffed full of avocadoes. "We cleaned em' the fuck out," he confirmed, smile on his face, before placing the bag back down. "This little shithead here wouldn't stop bugging me until I say yes." He reached out and playfully pushed Alex into the counter. "Fucking little punk."

Alex laughed, pushing back at Erik before they both settled down. "I'll run out and grab the chips, they're still in the car," Alex said as he walked past Erik, giving him one more punch in the arm for good measures.

"Geez, who taught you to punch, a little girl?" Erik hollered after him.

Charles, who was trying very hard to ignore what was going on around him, just focused on the game that Sean and Hank were playing— they were boxing each other or something— he had no idea why he felt so angry or why his cheeks were flushed with heat.

"Don't forget the bottle of rum," Erik called out to Alex as the kid walked out the front door again.

Once again, Shane's ears perked up. He twisted his face back to look at Erik. "You got rum?" he asked, interest peeked.

"And coke."

Now Sean's interest was peeked. He dropped his Wii controller, simultaneously losing by allowing Hank to knock his player down for the count, and whipping his head around to look at Erik; eyes wide as fuck.

"Soda," Erik clarified, rather dryly. Jesus Christ.

"Oh," the redhead said, going back to the game. "Whoa! When did that happen?" he asked when he saw his Wii character laid flat out and the countdown at four. He scrambled for his controller.

"Should have worn the wrist strap," Darwin mumbled.

Once Alex returned with the booze, Erik started on dinner as Shane made drinks; passing out beers to those who didn't like rum and coke.

It was all so very wrong; this whole situation was. Erik briefly wondered what else they could throw into the mix (besides the pot smoking that was about to come) that would ensure both he and Shane got arrested and Charles taken away by child services.

He dumped the beef into a large skillet with a snort. Good luck trying to take Charles way. He took a drink of his beer. Erik wasn't letting him go without a fight. The kid needed a good home now, and they may not be the best role-models in the world, but he and Shane sure as shit were better than that Sharon bitch Charles called a mom before.

Underage drinking and smoking aside, Erik would never be the failure that Sharon had been.

Wait. Since when was he trying to be the kid's father? That was Shane's job. He frowned down at the skillet as the beef slowly turned brown. He'd be there for Charles, sure, but he sure as hell wasn't the boy's dad. He took another drink of his beer.

Was he?

…

Later that night after dinner—which briefly reminded Erik of eating in a mess hall— Erik was sat down at the coffee table rolling a joint- -_he knew that Sean kid was holding out on him_- -he looked up once done and smiled. "Who wants in on this," he asked.

"Um, I hate to be the prickler here," Hank started, "but do you guys mind not smoking that around me? If my mother smells that on my clothes— and she will— it won't end well for…well, anyone here."

Erik thought about this for a second. The last thing they needed was someone's mom calling the cops on them. "Good point." He looked to Shane. "Our room okay?"

The blond just shrugged. "Fine by me." Erik turned back around and smiled again. "Alright, so that's settled. Now who's in on this?" He looked to Darwin, who just shook his head.

"No thanks, man, not my thing."

"Football," Alex said in response, gruffly. He looked kind of disappointed too; sucks for him.

"Well I'm in," Shane said as he stood from the couch. He looked to Sean. "I guess it's just the three of us then." He looked to Erik next. "Come on, let's go. I'm excited; it's been awhile since we've done this."

"Charles?" Erik asked, because clearly the boy's father forgot. But Charles just shook his head no.

"I'm all right," he said softly. He took another drink of his rum and coke and looked away. The boy had to be halfway to drunk by now; he was on, like, his sixth one. Christ.

"All right, we'll be back," Erik said as he joined Shane in standing (the blond wrapped his arms around Erik's chest and placed his chin on him). Reaching up with his joint-free hand, Erik placed it on Shane's arms as they took a step backwards together. "When we get back down here, I want to play you (he pointed at Darwin with the joint) in that boxing game," he said as Shane dragged him another step back (Charles focused very hard on the TV, blaming the booze for his suddenly burning cheeks). "You may be good," Erik continued, "but you haven't played against me yet."

Darwin raised his beer in acknowledgment. "Challenge accepted."

Erik smirked and then they were off.

Charles finished his drink all in one go, ready for another one.

…

Erik beat Darwin, for like; the tenth time, before the boy finally admitted defeat.

"Man, what the hell? How are you so good at this?" He complained as he rubbed his sore shoulder. The man was like a fucking tank. Christ. Impossible to take down.

Smiling like a shark- -as he's been told so many times before- -Erik just shrugged, looking at the whooped boy next to him. "Don't beat yourself up kid," he said as he flipped the Wii remote to Alex (who barely caught it with fumbling hands). "I used to take boxing not too long ago."

"Where? In Prison?" Charles snorted. He hid his smile behind his drink as Erik whipped a pillow his way.

"Don't be a smartass, kid," he warned with his own smile, "you think you're cute, but you're not." He flopped down on the couch next to the brunet, grabbing his beer afterwards. Charles leaned his head over and placed it on Erik's shoulder, and then batted his eyes.

"Oh," he smiled drunkenly, "I'm cute and you know it," he played.

Erik…Erik suddenly had to get up, for he found it hard to breathe. Was it suddenly very hot in here? Why was his body so very hot all of a sudden? Perhaps some fresh air will help. Yep; time for a cigarette. (Which is the opposite of fresh air, but okay, _whatever_.) He glanced over at the boy—who _still_ had his head on Erik's shoulder— meeting his sparkling blue eyes. "You're ridiculous," he muttered before pushing Charles off of him. "I need a smoke," he announced as he got up. The others were only half (if not: not at all) paying attention; too wrapped up in watching Alex and Shane go at it while playing the boxing game.

"Me too," Charles said, getting up after the older man. Erik looked at Hank. "We'll go out front."

"Thank you," a sheepish Hank said.

Outside, Charles watched as Erik lit up his cigarette. "What?" The older man asked, looking at Charles as he took a long drag. Fucking kid's staring at him for some reason, what the hell?

"I need a lighter."

Oh.

Erik handed him his zippo, careful not to touch the boy's fingers. After Charles lit up, they both sat down on the steps and smoked; Charles' arm brushing slightly against Erik's, causing the man's cheeks to burn.

Well this… this defeated the whole purpose of coming out here. Fuck.

Eventually, Charles turned his head to face Erik, cigarette hanging out his mouth, and asked:

"Do you think I look like Shane?"

A snort. Jesus Christ; this kid is drunk, he has to be. Erik gave him an amused look before shaking his head, "No, not at all actually." He was much better loo- _fuck_. Erik shook his head; too much to drink.

Charles looked off towards the road. "I didn't think so," he muttered.

Silence.

"That's not a bad thing," Erik said… for some reason. What the hell? How many beers had he had?

A smile from the teen; almost like he was beaming. Like a light. Like a beam of light or something. _Fuck_ Erik was drunk, what the hell? Also, he really wished Charles wouldn't smile at him like that. It was… unsettling.

A sigh.

"Just… don't be ridiculous, Charles," the older man said before taking another drag, looking away. He needed to go back inside. _Now_.

A shrug. "K." Charles took his own inhale, still smiling, and blew the smoke out like a pro. Something about that really bothered Erik. He bumped his shoulder into Charles'.

"You shouldn't smoke you know, it'll kill you."

Another brilliant smile. "Says the smoking man next to me," he teased. (Erik just snorted.) And he didn't even add the part: who buys me my smokes. He felt particularly nice that evening. Perhaps it was all the rum coursing through his system. He took another drag before stubbing the cigarette out. "We should do this every Friday."

Erik snorted again. "Not likely," he responded. Right, like he was going to be responsible for corrupting these kids. No thanks, they had themselves to do that.

"Every other Friday?"

The taller man just shot Charles a leveled look. "Like, once a month, _maybe_, Charles."

"Works for me."

They sat in silence for a moment longer, Erik finishing his cigarette. "What time is it, kid?"

Charles looked down at his watch- -and Jesus Christ, that was unusual in and on itself: Charles may be the first teenager that Erik's seen use a watch for time instead of a blasted cellphone- -before replying: "Almost one."

Good lord it was getting late. Good thing Erik didn't have work the next day (technically it was already the next day, but whatever), so he could sleep in.

Just then, Shane stuck his head out the door. "Hey, Sean just rolled one more joint, before we go to bed. You want in on it?" he asked Erik, who just shook his head no.

"Na, I'm all right- -I got a nice beer buzz going on." And he was still kind of high from earlier. That Sean kid had the good shit. Erik might even consider buying off of him in the future.

A smile. "All right," Shane said. He shot his lover a scandalous look. "I'll keep the bed warm for you." He waggled his eyebrows up and down. Erik sent a swat to the man's leg.

"Not in front of the kid." He chided with a smile. Charles rolled his eyes.

Shane then focused his attention on his son next. "Night son," he said, ruffling the boy's hair before disappearing back into the house. Charles snorted as he tried to flatten his hair back down, and then looked off to the side, almost peeved.

Silence, and then:

"Your father's a buffoon," Erik offered.

That got the kid to smile. He glanced back over to Erik. "I'm beginning to realize that."

…

Later that night—after Erik went back in and decided to whoop up on Alex with that boxing game, and then had a shower (and NOT to do what one might think; the man just plain wanted a shower. That Wii game really gets you sweating)— Erik stood in the doorway to his and Shane's bedroom with his head cocked to the side; taking in the sight before him.

Huh.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or grimace.

Both Shane and Sean were passed the fuck out (looks like Erik missed out on some really good weed). Shane up by the pillows, snoring away, and the redhead down by the foot of the bed, much like a cat, one might say. He even had that same goofy grin on his face when he slept, too.

Man, Erik must have _really_ missed out on some good weed.

Looking to the ashtray on the bed, he noticed the roach. Well good, at least they didn't fall asleep with the joint in hand- -that could've ended in a fiery ablaze. At least they were being responsible pot-heads.

He sighed before placing the ashtray on the nightstand, looking at the bed situation once more.

Right, he was having nothing to do with that. He'd be nice this one time and let them sleep.

He went back downstairs, about to flip the poor soul who decided to take the couch off it and to the floor, before he realized it was-

Oh.

Charles.

And he was passed the fuck out; arm and leg hanging off the side.

Splendid.

He looked around: Alex was in one armchair, legs dangling off the side and snoring away, Darwin passed out in the other, and Hank was out like a light on the floor, by Alex's feet.

This could only mean that Charles' bed was widely available. He smirked. You snooze you lose, literally.

He covered Charles up with a blanket from the hallway closet- -and he might of thrown one in Hank's general direction; the kid was on the floor after all- -before he went back upstairs to Charles' room.

Of course the kid's bed was unmade; he was a teenager after all. Erik lay down on it after taking his jeans off and kicking them to the floor. He left his shirt and boxers on because, well, you know; it's his stepson's bed after all. He didn't want the kid walking in on him in the morning, seeing Erik naked as the day he was born.

He's not trying to scar the kid.

Erik must have been a little more drunk than he had thought, for he found himself asleep not long after his head hit the pillow.

The stupid pillow which smelled just like Charles.

…

When Erik awoke next, it was because a person was getting into bed with him.

Whoa!

He startled awake.

"Jesus!" Charles exclaimed, jumping back. He squinted in the dark. "Erik?"

"Sorry," Erik got out quickly. He sat up more, coming out of his cocoon of blankets. (That's probably why Charles didn't see him there. Fuck.) "You were asleep on the couch; I didn't think you'd mind." Or be coming to join him in the middle of the night. _Fuck_. That sounded wrong even in Erik's head.

Charles, who was still a bit shocked, just blinked at the man in his bed.

"Sean's in my bed, with Shane," Erik tried again. That STILL sounded wrong. What the hell? But that finally got Charles to crack a smile.

"That sounds so very wrong," the told his stepfather with a hushed laugh. Erik chuckled a little too.

"Guess they smoked a little too much weed, they were both passed the fuck out." Erik said as he made to get up. (And if he wouldn't have been half asleep, Erik may have heard the sharp inhale of a breath Charles made upon seeing the man in only boxers and a tee in his bed.) "Here, you can have your bed back, obviously. I'll go down to the couch."

Charles made a rueful face. "I gave Hank the couch," he told the man. "I saw him on the floor, so I woke him up." He winced. "Sorry."

Damn it. Looked like it was the floor for Erik tonight. It's been a while since he's had to do that.

Wait. Charles was talking again.

"Here, it's okay, I'll take the floor; you can have the bed." He grabbed one of his pillows, about to lie down on the ground and-

"Charles, no," Erik said firmly. He was up and off the bed in a flash. "It's your bed; I'm not letting you sleep on the floor." That would just be rude. He grabbed the pillow from the boy's hand and tossed it back on the small bed. "Bed, _now_."

Charles had to suck in another sharp breath; thankfully Erik didn't hear it, _again_. "I will absolutely not put you out of your own bed," he was saying, looking down at the boy.

"But it's your house," Charles pointed out, weakly. Erik just shot him a look.

"Lay down."

A pause.

"We could share," the boy said softly, "the bed."

Erik nearly choked. He somehow managed to keep his cool, probably by keeping his features neutral. As always. He just stared at Charles, unsure what to say or how to act. Because really: what the fuck was he supposed to say to _that_?

"Here," Charles said as he picked up a pillow and tossed it to the foot of the bed. He looked up at Erik. "You can sleep down there." He shrugged. "You know, in case Shane comes looking for you." He gave an innocent smile. "Don't want him getting the wrong idea."

Now Erik's heart was hammering in his chest. He nearly groaned at what Charles had said (and it was probably _how_ Charles said it too that nearly did him in. _Fuck_). What the hell was this kid trying to do to him? Give him a heart attack?

Still, he gave the boy a huff before: "You're ridiculous."

"You keep saying that," Charles said with a smile as Erik climbed into the bed first; head down by the foot of it. Charles joined him a moment later, facing the outside as Erik stared at the wall, unblinking (was he really doing this?).

Tense silence, and then:

"You'd better not kick me in the face, kid."

A chuckle. "I won't, and, I'm not a kid."

Erik resisted the urge to cry. "You're not an adult," he muttered.

Another beat of silence.

"Almost," Charles whispered into the darkness.

Jesus Christ.

Erik moved even closer to the wall, until his face was practically touching it.

This… this was a bad idea.

…

When Erik was awoke next, it was by Shane, and he was pretty sure it was morning.

"Hey," the blond man whispered. He nudged Erik again. "Hey, wake up."

Groggily, and possibly hungover, Erik rolled onto his back, blinking up at his lover. "Time is it?"

"Almost 7:30."

Christ.

"Shane, it's a Saturday. What the actual fuck?"

Still keeping his voice quiet as to not wake Charles, the other man just shrugged. "You know I can't sleep past seven, work or no; my body's just ready to get up." He nudged the man again. "Come on- -join me in the shower." A seductive look. "I'll give you a good morning blowjob."

That… Erik could work with. He liked good morning blowjobs. He grinned up at his boyfriend. "That will help this hangover at least," he muttered softly, giving Shane a fond look. He already had morning wood, so why not?

"That it will," Shane agreed. "Come on, afterwards we'll make the kids breakfast."

Erik deadpanned. "You mean _I'll_ make the kids breakfast."

A sheepish look from Shane, "I could help…"

Help set the house on fire.

"You burn eggs," Erik pointed out. "And destroy toast while buttering it. You will do no such thing."

A snort/laugh came from the other man, who tried to cover it with his hand.

"Shh, you'll wake the kid," Erik said with a chiding look. He glanced up to Charles, who _looked_ asleep.

He wasn't.

"All right, I'll go get the shower warmed up," Shane said as he too looked at Charles before his eyes landed back on his lover. "Don't keep me waiting."

And just like that, Shane was gone.

Groaning- -thanks a lot beer- -Erik sat up all the way. He grabbed his pillow and placed it back up by the headboard; by Charles. He then looked at the pillow.

It looked so soft and warm. So inviting.

He crashed back down. Five more minutes, then he'll get up. He snuggled next to Charles- -not touching him; just close enough that the boy's hair was tickling his nose- -and let his eyes drift closed again.

Just five more minutes…

…

Fifteen minutes later.

A nudge to the shoulder woke Erik up- -_again_- -he blinked his eyes open to find an upset looking Shane; towel around his waist, hair wet, and frown on his face.

And then he noticed Charles, who had rolled over in his sleep and was face to face with him, like, an inch away.

Erik jerked away quickly.

"What the hell, Erik?" Shane whispered sharply. "I've been in there for almost twenty minutes; you going to join me or not?" Apparently being within kissing distance of his son did nothing to rumple the man, but keep him waiting in the shower; oh no: that just didn't fly. Erik found all this very interesting.

"Sorry," he said, still trying to wake up, "I fell back asleep." He gave his lover a sheepish look.

"Yeah, apparently."

"Is there any hot water left?"

"Not enough for a blowjob," the older man said matter-factly. He seemed a wee bit upset too. Erik winced.

"Sorry."

An eyeroll. "I should've known not to wake you up before nine on a Saturday." Shane started to make his way back out of the room. "Now get your ass out of my son's bed- -it's starting to creep me out," he tossed over his shoulder.

Erik smirked. "Now you know how I felt last night," he said as he got out of bed gingerly, trailing after his lover. "Does this mean the blowjob's out?" He asked with a hushed voice, but still loud enough for the other man to hear.

"Yes," came Shane's voice from the hallway.

Erik grinned, slipped his pants back on and left, "Ah, come on…"

As soon as the door to Charles' room closed, the boy rolled over onto his back; eyes still closed, a smile on his face.

…

Erik's idea of waking people up in the morning — which is cruel at best— was by ringing a cowbell in their face.

A cowbell.

Sure, it's gotten him punched in the face a few times- -he learned very early on in his and Shane's relationship NOT to do that ever again- -but something about doing it to a bunch of hungover teenagers was just too hilarious to pass up.

"Morning time!" Erik announced as he rang the fuck out of said bell, "time to wake the hell up." He rang it right in Alex's face.

The whole thing originally started off as a bad joke, but Erik kept that bell over the years, just for spite. Serves Shane right for trying to be a smart ass…

"_Here you go princess, just ring the bell should you need anything," Shane said as he set the bell down by a terribly sick Erik, tired of having to hear his lover's hoarse voice as he tried to shout for Shane across the house when he needed something._

_Erik glared at his lover, reaching out and swiping the bell. If Shane wanted to treat him like a child, he'd show him a child._

_The second Erik recovered he got Shane the next morning with a bell to the face and cheerful glee. _

_"Wake the fuck up, sunshine! It's time for work!"_

_Erik received his first (and only) black eye from his lover that day_.

"Jesus Christ," Alex grumbled as he put his hands over his ears. "I knew there had to be a downside to all this." He looked up at the bell ringing lunatic.

"Erik," Darwin said, clutching his own head in agony, "we're hungover, come on man. This is like, worse than medieval torture," he groaned.

"I'm not even hungover but that bell still makes me want to kill someone," Hank said from the floor, blinking up at the ceiling.

Erik furrowed his brows. Wait, hadn't Charles said that Hank had taken the-

"Dude, how are you not hungover?" Darwin asked suddenly, throwing Hank a suspicious look.

The boy just shrugged, reaching for his glasses on the table. "I don't know; I just don't get hangovers." A smug look, "and I drank more than you," he told Darwin.

"That's why we call him _Beast_," Alex said, and then winced. "Fuck, my head…"

"You're all pansies," Erik declared, then looked to Hank, "well, except for you."

"Who wants breakfast?" Shane asked with a chipper tone as he made his way downstairs, fully dressed now and Sean in tow. The redhead was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, with a _what the fuck, how'd I end-up up there?_ look on his face.

All the boys' hands went up at once. Shane smiled at Erik, a 'that's-your-cue' look on his face. Erik didn't even try and hide his eyeroll.

"You'd starve without me," he told his boyfriend before making his way to the kitchen.

About ten minutes later Charles finally made his way downstairs. And he looked very well rested and quite satisfied with himself. He'd probably spent the last ten minutes or so jerking off. Erik remembered being that age. He snorted with a smile as he pushed the scrambled eggs around the frying pan.

"What?" Charles said as he came into the kitchen, smiling at the taller man as he opened the fridge and grabbed the orange juice. Erik just shook his head, looking back at the stovetop.

"Nothing," he muttered, smile on his face. "You. You're just ridiculous," ridiculously cute.

Drinking straight from the carton, Charles just eyed the man before him, his eyebrows going up once. Erik was in a good mood this morning. After he pulled the juice away, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he smiled at Erik once more.

Damnit, there go Erik's cheeks again: turning all red and hot; had to be because he was standing too close to the stove. He looked over at Charles. "Go tell all your little friends the food's ready," he said as he dumped the scrambled eggs onto a large plate after turning the burner off.

All right: bacon, eggs, toast and hash browns; that should be enough to feed an army of hungover teenagers.

Right?

…

That night, after a vigorous round of sex, both Erik and Shane lay next to each other, bodies cooling and breaths being caught. Shane looked over at his lover, "Do you think I am bad father?"

Christ. Erik didn't know if he should respond to this with a snort or an eye-roll, or maybe both. He looked over at the man, "What?" He asked inconspicuously.

A long sigh and Shane looked up at the ceiling. "I just feel like I'm not being the best father I could be to him."

Erik…really wanted to deadpan. Instead, he shot his lover a cocked eyebrow; it was probably his best option here. "Shane, you let him drink and smoke, not to mention you get high with his friends- -so yeah- -I'd have to say the whole state of Maine would probably consider you a bad father. It's a wonder child services hasn't come and taken him away yet."

Not that Erik would ever let that happen. They'd have to go through him first.

Rolling onto his side, Shane propped up on an elbow as he looked at his bed partner. "Well that's hardly fair. You let him do all those things too. Hell, you even support his smoking habit." The older man pointed out.

Now Erik was sitting up as well. "I'm not his father." For some reason, Erik just really wanted to drive that point home.

Really, he wasn't even sure why it was bothering him so; to make that point clear.

"Well, yes, you're not his father _father_, but still…" Shane made a pouty face at the man. "I'd like to think we're a family."

A dysfunctional family.

Erik's skin started feeling all hot and tingly again—almost prickly— like it didn't belong on him. He needed some fresh air. Rolling up, he grabbed his pants and began dressing again. "We are a family, Shane," he told the man as he stood, zipping his pants as he did. He looked back at the man in the bed. "It's just… Charles is _your_ son, not mine."

Pulling the covers up around him, Shane gave Erik a hurt look. "So what are you saying? That you don't care about him?"

"Of course I care about him damnit," Erik snapped. Shit. He didn't…_damn it_. He didn't mean for it to come out so harsh. Erik sighed, running a hand down his face before he looked at Shane again. "Of course I care about him," he said softer this time. "It's just…" another sigh. "He's your son, not mine. That's all. I don't mean anything bad by it, he's just…not mine. Okay? That's all. Not my son." Stop talking. Stop fucking talking right now.

Slowly, Shane nodded. "Okay," he said as he eyed his boyfriend.

"Look," Erik said as he came back on the bed, "I care for the kid, all right? It's still just a lot to get used to, right?" He smiled awkwardly at Shane. "I bet you never thought you'd be a thirty-eight year old ass man with a seventeen year old son, huh?"

A small laugh from Shane. He shook his head. "No."

"All right so, just… we're still getting used to this, yes?" A head nod. "Good." Erik said before leaning over and kissing the man. "I love you," he said as he pulled back.

"Love you too," Shane replied softly.

…

One day, before Shane got home from work, Erik found Charles in the living room, half watching TV, half texting.

_God_ he wanted to roll his eyes, fucking teenagers and their phones. Soon enough, they're just going to have them surgically graphed to their hands. It would just be easier.

"Texting that Angel chick?" He inquired as he made a beeline for the fridge, pulling out a beer.

A snort from Charles. "No."

Great, he's already on one syllable responses, now they're in teenager land for sure. "Why not?" Erik just kept right on pressing. He really wasn't sure why either. He didn't give a fuck who Charles texted, or was potentially sleeping with (although he preferred it NOT to be Angel. _God_ her laugh). He folded his arms across his chest, beer still in hand, and leaned against the kitchen island.

"Because I don't like her like that," Charles responded, head still down and thumbs flying away.

Now Erik couldn't help it, he had to roll his eyes at that. "Right," he said as pushed off the counter and made his way closer, "that's why the other day you two were practically necking on the couch." Do they still use the word "necking"? That seemed like something his grandparents would say, if they were still alive. He raised an eyebrow. "I was here, I remember." He remembered getting annoyed.

"I said I don't like her, Erik." Charles' thumbs were still texting away, and if anything, he seemed to be angry texting now. Poor person on the receiving end.

Still.

"Then why were you tickling her? You can't possibly tell me that you like the sound of her laugh. I don't know about you, but I was about to stab a pencil in my eye and swirl it around."

Charles didn't respond.

"Okay…what about that Raven chick- -she was pretty hot."

Finally, Charles looked up. He glared at Erik. "I don't fucking like her like that either. We're just friends," he said a little harshly than the conversation warranted for. Jesus Christ this kid was difficult.

"All right, fine," Erik said, hand up. "I was just trying to help you out." He took a drink of his beer. "Excuse me for trying to help my son get laid," he muttered as he started to turn away.

Now, for some reason, Charles seemed to have snapped after that. "Well I don't need your fucking help!" He got up from the couch, stalking over to Erik. "I don't like Angel, I don't like Raven, hell, I don't even think I fucking like girls!" He yelled at the older man. "All right? Is that what you wanted to hear?" He then stormed off, leaving Erik unblinking and wide eyed in the kitchen.

What… just happened?

Erik swallowed, heavily, and then blinked. Did Charles… did Charles just come out to him? Right here, in the kitchen? Only the fridge as a witness?

He suddenly found it so very difficult to breathe.

…

"Charles is gay."

Shane dropped his toothbrush in the sink (Erik always finds _the_ best time to drop stuff on people). "What?" He whipped his head around to face Erik, who was in the doorway to the bathroom, arms crossed.

"He thinks he might be gay." Erik clarified. "But he just told me today (more like yelled it at him), so you can't say anything to him about it yet."

Now, Erik wasn't sure what response to expect from the man, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting:

"Like father, like son!" Followed by a huge fucking grin.

Erik's eyebrow arched up. "That… saying really shouldn't work there," he commented with a head shake.

"But it does!" Shane replied gleefully. He took a step closer to the taller man. "Oh this is just wonderful," he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Erik. "My boy's just like us."

Patting his lover's back for a moment, Erik pulled away and looked Shane in the eyes. "Well, I'm glad you're happy about it, but I still think he's a little confused about all of it. Just the other day he was this close (he held his hand up; thumb and forefinger nearly touching) to making out with that Angel chick, so I'm not sure if he's figured everything out just yet. We need to give him his space, let him come to us if he has any questions, okay?" Shane nodded his head fervently. "All right," Erik went on, "let's just go downstairs and see if he says anything to us about it now. He just told me today and he was a tad bit emotional about it."

Shane's eyes softened. "Oh, did he cry?" he asked tenderly.

Erik thought back the earlier proceedings.

"_Well I don't need your fucking help! I don't like Angel, I don't like Raven, hell, I don't even think I fucking like girls!_"

"Something like that."

Shane clutched his heart. God bless the moron. "Oh," he breathed. "My son. My sweet, sweet son."

"Remember," Erik said as he led Shane to the bedroom door, "not a word unless he brings it up first." A pause. "And under no circumstances are you to break out the porno magazines; they are in no way considered 'education'."

"That was one time," Shane muttered.

…

The second Shane spotted Charles on the couch, flipping through the channels looking bored as fuck; the man's bottom lip began to tremble.

He cracked.

"Son," he cried out before throwing himself at the boy, hugging him. Charles looked so very fucking confused and partially frightened. Erik didn't blame him. "I know, and it's okay. I'm so proud of you for admitting it, son!"

Erik slapped his forehead in the background and Charles' eyes shot over to him.

"You told him," he asked dryly, "didn't you?"

Erik winced. "No chance you'd believe he just found out on his own?"

The boy's raised eyebrow told Erik that was a _no_.

"It's okay son," Shane said, pulling back to look at Charles, "we love you and accept you for who you are."

"Obviously," Erik stated dryly.

"It's fine," Charles said as he pushed his father a little more away. He looked to Erik. "I'm still trying to figure things out, but I'm pretty sure that I like guys more than girls." A shrug. "I don't know. I'm just more attracted to them."

Now Shane looked positively beside himself with glee. Erik couldn't take it anymore. "So, is there anyone special you have your eye on?" He perked up. "Ooh! What about the football player: Alex? He's cute." Shane waggled his eyebrows. "_Really_ cute. I swear, if I were only fifteen years younger-"

A cough. "Standing right here," Erik muttered. He crossed his arms over his chest. Shane just waved him off.

"Or how about that Hank kid? Shy but cute. I like him. Nerds with glasses are sexy."

Erik suppressed the urge to groan. "I think I need a drink," he mumbled instead. Charles gave the man a "help me" look— one much like the first day when they all met and Shane had a man-breakdown— before he looked back to his father.

"No Shane, none of my friends, they're all just friends and nothing more." A pause. "I think I'm more into older guys anyway."

Erik choked on the goddamn beer he currently had to his lips. _What_?

"Ooh, college boys huh? That's sexy." Shane seemed to approve of this, highly. Jesus Christ, they all needed consoling. "You know, when I was in college, I was-"

"Knocking up the boy's mom?" Erik supplied as he wiped the beer from his mouth. Shit. That probably wasn't the right thing to say. He winced. "Sorry. We shouldn't speak ill of the deceased." No matter how terrible they were.

Luckily, Charles just chuckled with a hand wave, thankful to get some of the attention off of him for a while. "Don't worry about, she'd enjoy the attention. Dead or not." He looked up at both men, Shane first, then Erik. "Listen, if it's all the same to you, I think I'm just going to go up to my room for a while. This is all starting to have a very "Maury" vive to it." Possibly even "Jerry Springer". He got up from the couch and made his way to the stairs. "Night Shane, night Erik."

"Night son."

"Kid."

They both watched as Charles vanished upstairs, possibly to sneak out his window and never return, before Shane leaned back on the couch and sighed. "They grow up so fast."

Erik just took another drink of his beer, eyeroll included.

…

Later that night, Erik walked by Charles' door. He noticed the light was on so he knocked softly.

"Come in."

Erik opened the door, not really sure what to expect, but nevertheless found Charles on his bed, magazine in hand. Oh good, and it wasn't one of Shane's- -that could have been awkward. Charles looked up at the man in his doorway.

"Hey," Erik said. "Can I come in?"

A nod from Charles and he sat up, setting the magazine down. There was a moment of tense silence, because apparently Erik came unprepared, before Charles broke it.

"You're not going to lecture me on safe sex, are you?" He smiled.

Erik cracked as well; a grin spreading over his face. "No." He huffed a laugh, some of the tension leaving his body. "That's your father's department, which means in the long run: you'll never get that talk." Thank god for the internet. He looked to Charles' bed. "Can I sit?" Charles nodded, scooting over more so the older man could sit down.

"Listen Charles," he said once he was on the bed, "about these 'older guys', I can understand what the appeal is, believe me; I get it, especially at your age. But you have to be careful." He looked right at the boy. "These "college boys", all they want is one thing: and that's sex." He looked off, very uncomfortable, and scratched the back of his neck. Why was he doing this? This was Shane's responsibility, not his. Damn him for being so suddenly caring. He glanced back at the brunet.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is: I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to see you fall for one of these older boys and then go and get your heart broken when you find out it was just sex." He paused. "You understand what I'm getting at?"

Charles just smiled at the other man. "I understand, Erik," he said softly, then placed his hand on the man's thigh (Erik's pretty sure his heart just stopped). "But I'm not worried about the college boys." He smiled… was that a seductive smile? No, that can't be right. "I'm more into _older_, older guys." He gave Erik a look. "If you get my drift."

Whoa!

He got his drift. Erik was up and off the bed before he even registered it. "Charles," he said down to the boy, shaking his head, "I can't… even begin to tell you how bad of an idea that is." Such a bad idea. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get some guy in if you were to peruse him? You're only seventeen for fuck's sake. By law, you're still a child; you could get a guy arrested for that shit." Erik heard jail was lovely this time of year. "I hope you don't already have your eye on someone." He paused. Please god; don't already have your eye on someone. "Is it a teacher? One of your friend's fathers? A friend's older bother?" Someone in this room? He shook his head. "Charles, I can't even tell you how much it's just… wrong."

The boy frowned. "Why can't I like older men?"

Erik just stared at him. He knew this was a bad idea. He should've never come in here. Now he's going to have to tell Shane about this. Christ, that's not going to go over well. "Charles…" he sighed. "I…I don't know what to say… but, _no_. It's not all right for you to like older men." Please stop liking older men. "You're still a child yourself; you should be dating boys your age." For so, so many reasons.

Also, Erik felt the sudden and dire need to flee the room, now.

"I… I have to go, Charles," he said as he took a step back— why was Charles' sad face slowly destroying his heart?—until he reached the door. "This is a conversation you need to have with your father, not me." Never Erik. He looked at the boy once more. "Goodnight, Charles."

And then he was gone.

Sighing, Charles lay back down on the bed, his head thumping into his pillow as he looked up at the ceiling.

…

Quietly, Charles snuck down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. When he got to Shane and Erik's door, which was slightly ajar, the moaning got louder. He peeked in.

"Fuck Erik, yes, right there."

Charles watched, silently, as Erik held Shane's legs up and over his shoulders as he fucked into him, his well-toned body rippling with muscles as he thrust his hips; both men covered with sweat. He watched for a second longer, and then slowly drew his phone out of his pocket, activating his video camera.

"Erik," Shane rasped quietly, his head turning to the side, eyes closed, "yes."

In the cover of darkness, Charles held his phone up to the crack in the door, making sure only to get Erik on camera— like fuck he wanted to see his dad— and recorded a good few minutes: all of Erik fucking, before slipping away stealthily, back to his room.

…

Back on his bed, Charles took his phone out and played the video, reaching down with his other hand and palming his growing erection.

When he came, into a waiting tissue, he rasped out "Erik," with a breath, before pushing his phone aside and rolling over to get some sleep, a soft smile playing on his lips.

…

Saturday night.

"Are you fucking serious, Shane? I can't believe we're even going to have this conversation again."

"What? Why is it such a big deal?"

Cautiously, Charles crept closer to the cracked door, where Erik and Shane were arguing. He pressed his back to the wall and held his breath.

"You know what the big deal is, Shane," Erik snapped at the man. "I don't like you going out with Tony. I don't understand why you have to. Why you feel the _need_ to. You know I don't like him."

"For fuck's sake Erik, this is getting ridiculous," the blond snapped right back. "You're right; I'm tired of having this conversation too. Why don't you trust me?"

"I do trust you," Erik replied, "I just don't like the idea of you going out drinking with your sleazy ex-boyfriend! It's _him_ I don't trust. I see the way he looks at you," the younger man growled.

Charles' eyebrows shot up. He pressed against the wall tighter and peered into the room with one eye.

"Jesus Erik," Shane said with an eyeroll, "we dated for like, two months. Come on."

"Yeah, and as I recall, you started sleeping with _me_ before you officially broke it off with Tony." Erik looked pissed, almost like he wanted to smash something valuable or stomp on something cute and fluffy. It wasn't a good look on him, Charles decided.

"Oh my god," Shane exclaimed as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Yes, but I chose you, didn't I? Shouldn't that count for something? I stopped fucking Tony the second I started fucking you. _Christ_. We've been having this argument for six fucking years. I'm tired of it!"

"So am I," Erik retorted back, hotly, "and I would've hoped after six fucking years you would've stop hanging out with him. But no, every few months that bastard pops up into your life and somehow manages to drag you out to the bars with him, despite my protest. Do my feelings mean nothing to you?"

The sound of someone coming closer to the door made Charles back up a bit, no longer able to see in.

"I'm done with this." That was Shane. "I'm not having this conversation any more. I'm leaving."

A huff, obviously Erik. "Yeah, fine, whatever. That's what you always do; just walk away. You're going out with him if I like it or not, my feelings be damned." Charles could hear what sounded like someone sitting on the bed. Probably Shane putting on his shoes. Erik went on. "Because you do what you want to do— it's all about you anyway. Whatever makes Shane happy. Fuck everyone else."

"Fuck you, Erik." Shane's voice was getting closer to the door so Charles ducked into the bathroom, hiding in the cover of darkness behind the door as he strained his ears.

"Yeah? Well fuck you too," Erik's voice hollered after him. "I hope it's worth it! I hope you have fun with Tony fucking Stark, because I won't be here when you get back! So go on and fuck him, you bastard!"

Charles' heart was racing as he hid in the bathroom. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd never heard Erik and Shane fight like _this_ before.

"Whatever," Shane's voice was a mumble as he passed the hallway bathroom. "Maybe I will," he said a little louder, just enough for Erik to hear.

After Charles heard the front door slam shut, he heard that valuable object shatter against the wall. He winced. Probably a lamp.

…

Erik was sitting… no, make that moping (really, more like brooding), on the couch, beer in hand, TV on but volume down. Fuck what was on, it didn't matter; none of it mattered. He raised his beer to his lips and took a sip.

Fuck Shane, fuck Tony, fuck em' both. He hopes they both fucking die.

No…. he doesn't mean that.

He hopes Tony fucking dies.

He took another drink of his beer, wondering what Shane was doing right now. A huff. Probably telling Tony all about their fight, the other man smiling widely, his stupid good looking face mocking Erik with its smugness. Tony would then probably laugh, lean over into Shane's space and place his hand on the blond's thigh, tell him that he sure knows how to pick the jealous ones, before buying him another drink.

Stupid rich jerk.

Erik set his beer down on the coffee table before covering his face with his hands; his elbows digging into his thighs. Every fucking six months; it was the same goddamn thing every fucking six months. Shane would announce he was meeting up with Tony to get some drinks ("_He's only in town for a week!_"), Erik would protest, telling his lover that he didn't like the idea of him hanging out _drinking_ with his ex, they would fight, Shane would say he's going regardless, and Erik would threaten not to be here when Shane got home as the man was leaving. (This was however the first time he told Shane to go ahead and fuck Stark. He wished he hadn't done that now: it wasn't settling well in his stomach. "_Maybe I will_" kept playing over and over in his head.)

He could never bring himself to leave though. (He started packing once, but didn't get very far before he broke down.) Instead, he would just drink himself into stupidity, pass out on the couch and wait for Shane to come home. Shane would wake him, they would go to bed together— not touching or speaking; back to back— and then in the morning they'd act like nothing happened.

Well, more like Shane would act like nothing happened and go to work while Erik nursed his hangover.

However it was a Saturday this time; Shane wouldn't have work the next day, so Erik knew they would more than likely have to talk it out tomorrow. He winced. There'd probably be more yelling. He glanced at his beer. Perhaps he should stop drinking; yelling whilst hungover is never good for one's head.

Fuck. His head hit the back of the couch. The kid. He forgot all about the kid. He really didn't want Charles to witness all that. He didn't need to be more exposed to their already fucked up life.

Speaking of the kid…

"Hey," Charles said, seemingly appearing from out of nowhere. Although he probably just snuck down the stairs quietly. He stood by the arm of the couch, looking awkward, and yet still so darn cute for his own good. Fucking pouty face. "I heard you and Shane fighting earlier." A pause. (Erik suppressed a groan of self-hatred. Of course he heard.) "Are you all right?"

Looking at the teen, Erik shrugged. "I'm fine. It happens more often than not." He gave a weak smile. "Sorry you had to hear it though."

Now Charles shrugged. "It's okay. It's not like I've never seen couples fight before." Erik noticed the boy was twisting the sleeve of his shirt in his hand. Was he nervous? Erik suddenly found it very endearing. "Sharon and that bastard of a stepfather of mine used to fight almost every day." A pause. "Sometimes it would get physical." He looked down. "I used to step in when it came to that, but then Kurt would just turn his anger on me, and my mom would turn a blind eye." He looked back up. "So after a while, I just turned a blind ear." Another pause. "I think she actually liked the abuse. It gave her an excuse to be drunk and hopped up on all sorts of drugs the whole time." He blinked. "Which is what killed her, of course. She was found in a pool of her own vomit."

Jesus Christ. What was Erik supposed to say to that? It made his problems seem meager and unworthy of self-pity. He just looked at the boy. "Christ Charles," he breathed. "I don't know what to say to that." Perhaps _Charles_ should be the one drinking tonight. A shrug from the boy, and then a soft smile.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm not here for sorry; I'm here to see if you're okay." He touched Erik's shoulder softly.

Dear lord, how old was this boy?

"I'm fine, Charles, just… upset." He sighed, turning his focus back on the coffee table and NOT on the soft hand resting on his shoulder. He had to suppress a shiver. "Your father just drives me insane sometimes," he muttered. Like, insane to point of murder. He glanced back at Charles, who had come closer. "It's nothing you need to worry about though, we'll be fine. I'm not really leaving." A pause. "If you heard that part." He probably did, Erik made sure he yelled it loud enough for Shane and the whole universe to hear. _Fuck_.

A soft smile formed on Charles' face. "I know," he told the man as he sat down. "You look tense though, come here."

Erik blinked. What? Then his heart started racing. What did he…?

Charles moved closer. "I give great back rubs, and you look like you could use one." He motioned for Erik to turn his back to him. "Come on, let me give you one."

"…Charles…" (Damn it; that came out a little moanier than he wanted.)

"Come on-" the boy just smiled reassuringly, "-you look like a giant tense shark, this will do you some good."

That actually got Erik to crack a small smile. "You're ridiculous," he muttered as he turned his back to the boy, resting his side on the back of the couch. Charles smiled.

"You keep saying that," he murmured as his hands landed on the older man's shoulders; his fingers digging into knotted muscles. A shiver ran through Erik upon first contact, goosebumps breaking out over his arms. Charles noticed, of course, his lips curled up at the sides even more.

"That feel good, Erik?" He murmured into Erik's ear, his hands moving lower down the other man's back. A hitching breath came from Erik and his eyes closed. Something about this… felt so very wrong.

Still, he nodded wordlessly, so Charles worked his hands even lower, until the boy's fingers were massaging gently into his lower back. "Found a knot," Charles said as he worked his thumb into the hard muscle. Erik jumped, his body reacting to the soreness, as a gasp left his mouth. Charles' other hand came up to the man's shoulder to steady him. "Easy there," he whispered against Erik's neck. "I need to work the knot out."

Fuck. Erik could _feel_ the boy's breath on his neck. (Since when was he so close?) He didn't dare open his eyes in fear that all this would be real.

Real and _wrong_.

"Mmm, such a _big_ knot," Charles muttered, his breath even warmer now (and if Erik wasn't mistaken, that was said a little too seductively). "You must be very tense." A pause. "Either that, or Shane doesn't do this for you enough." Erik could feel the teen move closer behind him, the boy's hair brushing against his head as he practically pressed himself to Erik's back to whisper in his ear:

"I'll bet Shane doesn't do a lot of things for you that he should, things that I _would_ do."

Erik was up and off the couch before he even realized it, leaving a confused Charles on it alone. He glanced down at the boy, and his big sad eyes. _Fuck_. "Charles," he said with a hoarse voice, "this… this is wrong." He shook his head. "So wrong."

But Charles just looked up at him, still seemingly confused. "What?" He asked. "I'm just giving you a back massage. That's all."

No, that was not all; not if Erik's pants had anything to say on the matter, and _fuck_: how did that even happen? He had a goddamn semi-hard. He ran a tired hand down his face. _Fuck_. "No Charles… it's… I- -just- -I can't do this." Something about all of this was just not right (fucking half boner aside).

But now Charles was just looking sad as shit, goddamn pouting even. "I didn't mean anything by it Erik; I just wanted to help you get a load off."

_Fuuuck_. Even that sounded wrong. Erik had to stop himself from groaning. "I know Charles-" his hands were shaking, why were his hands shaking? "-it's just…" he shook his head. "This is wrong."

Now Charles was standing; coming closer to Erik, whose heart was now pounding in his chest like a drum. Christ, the teen could probably hear it from where he stood (which was actually pretty close, _oh god_). "It's only wrong if we think it's wrong," he said softly, looking at the man with some sort of fondness in his eyes.

Jesus fuck.

Erik didn't wait around to find out what that look was; he just took a step back. "I- -I'm going upstairs now Charles, I'm tired." And drunk, too drunk. "I'm going to bed." Another backwards step. "I'd suggest you do the same." In his own bed, of course— not Erik's— that would be so very inappropriate. "This is just… not right."

Charles watched him, from under his eyelashes, as the man retreated; going upstairs and away from the situation all together, as if fleeing the scene of a crime.

It was… not the ideal outcome the boy was hoping for.

…

Erik wasn't sure if he wanted to jerk off or punch the wall, and of course, the want to jerk off only made the desire to punch the wall even greater.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

His fist smashed through the drywall, right where the lamp landed earlier.

Well fuck it; destruction seemed to be the theme of the night. After he pulled his fist back cursing, Erik slid down the wall, covering his face as the shame hit him hard.

Shame for having _feelings_ for a seventeen year old boy— feelings for his lover's son.

His own _fucking_ stepson.

"No, he's not my stepson," Erik had to remind himself. "Shane and I aren't married." He shook his head again; face still buried. _That doesn't matter though and you know it_, the little voice inside his head nagged at him. He knew it was true too. Him and Shane being married or not, they were still a family, he still looked at Charles as a son.

He'd never been more disgusted with himself.

Fed up, Erik decided a cold shower was in order here. He thumped his head against the wall as his hands dropped. Too bad he knew it would end up being a hot shower: one that involved his fist and a hard cock.

Fuck it.

Erik opened the door to the hallway bathroom, so absorbed in his self-loathing that he didn't even have time to register that the light was on, or that the door had been closed. Or that Charles was at the sink. Masturbating.

What the _FUCK_?

"Jesus Charles!"

"Fuck Erik!" The boy went to cover himself (pulling his pants up quickly) as Erik begun to turn away, but something had caught his eye—something on the counter— just barely, but he definitely saw it.

Wait, was that…?

"What the _fuck_, Charles?" Erik roared as he snatched the boy's phone off the counter, bringing it to his face just to make sure what he saw was what he thought he-

Yep. It was JUST what he thought it fucking was.

He lowered the phone slowly, anger building within him, as he eyed the teen. Charles was blushing terribly, but that just could've been from his little romp with his hand. He was really giving it to himself when Erik walked in.

"Why the _fuck_, do you have this on your phone?" The older man asked dangerously low. But Charles just reached out and swiped the phone back, turning off the video before shoving it into his pocket. He looked down, saying nothing.

Trembling with rage, Erik tried again. "Why the fuck do you have video of your father and me fucking on your goddamn phone, Charles?" He all but yelled at the boy. That finally got Charles to look up. He looked pissed too. (And why the hell was HE mad?)

"It's not of Shane you dumbass, it's of _you_," he hollered back.

Still, Erik couldn't really register all that at the moment. How could he? All he could think about was that Charles had recorded a video of him and Shane having sex. It made him seethe with rage.

"Delete it," he said. "NOW."

Erik's tone left no argument; with fumbling hands Charles reached back into his pocket to retrieve his phone, but the instant it reappeared Erik grabbed it and threw it to the floor, stomping on it with his boot in one crunch. Charles gasped, eyes going wide as he watched his phone crumble under the taller man's wrath.

"If you ever, _ever_, do anything like that again-" Erik took one step closer to the boy, a finger pointed at his chest, "-so God help me Charles…" and he left it at that, turning to leave this whole fucked up mess of a situation he found himself in. He still hadn't even addressed the fact that Charles was masturbating to him. _Fuck_. Could his night get anymore twisted?

Yes.

"I see the way you look at me."

Erik froze, halfway out the door. _Don't take the bait, don't take the bait_.

He took it.

Turning slowly, Erik glared at the boy before him. "What?" he bit out.

Charles swallowed, meeting the fierce man's gaze. He took one, shaky step closer, letting out a breath as he did. "I see the way you look at me," the boy repeated. "You're conflicted, I can tell. You want me; you want to ruin me, you want to fuck me, but you're disgusted with yourself over it." A pause, followed by a heavy swallow. "You're attracted to me and you know you shouldn't be, but you are. You want me, Erik." He reached out and placed a trembling hand to the older man's chest, where he could feel the heart that was beating; threatening to burst out of the man's chest. "Right here," Charles whispered, placing his hand over the thrumming organ. "I can feel it right here."

Erik wanted to yell, wanted to scream; wanted to tell the boy to fuck off, that he was wrong, that Erik didn't care about him, that he could never have feelings for him. That he was just a stupid, immature, _wrong_, little boy.

Instead, his traitorous mouth said: "You… you…you're ridiculous," with a sneer.

And Charles knew he had him.

The teen surged up quickly, wrapping his hands around Erik's head, and brought their mouths together for a kiss. A kiss that burned yet felt so good. Erik's hands went straight for the young man's waist, drawing him near as the kiss deepened, and Erik felt it in the very core of his soul. The very soul that was now damned to hell.

Possibly even to the fieriest pit there was.

When the kiss broke, both men inhaled, sharply, and then foreheads pressed together as breaths mingled. Erik was pretty sure he tasted like beer and hatred, but Charles just looked up into the older man's eyes, both of them shaky and heady with lust.

"I want you," Charles breathed, and Erik moaned before he surged back down to shut the boy the hell up with another kiss.

Maybe if he could just kiss the breath away from this stupid kid…

But now Charles was hitting his knees, looking up at Erik like the tempting little thing that he was, and Erik knew right then and there he was a sinner. Welcome to hell. Charles began mouthing at the older man's crotch, a damp spot forming as the boy's lips and tongue explored the area. But Erik didn't have time for this, if the boy wanted to become a man so bad, Erik was going to show his how. This instant.

He pushed Charles' head away, undoing his zip before pulling his pants down just enough. And Charles waited, looking ever so fucking eager as a kid his age shouldn't. It was all so very wrong. Erik honestly hoped the boy hated every second of this as he took his cock out. Charles' eyes widened and a small gasp left his mouth.

Yeah, that's right; Erik was hung like a fucking horse. Bet the boy had never seen one this size before. Erik should do fucking porn or something. He hoped Charles choked on it, that'll teach him to want to suck cock so bad. Fucking tease.

"I didn't know they came that big," the brunet got out, his stupid eyes still shocked wide. He licked his lips.

"You don't know a lot of things," Erik retorted, unkindly, wishing he didn't just see the teen wet his lips. _Fuck_. He reached out and drew the boy's head closer. "Come on, you want to suck my cock, then open up."

And Charles did, still eagerly, goddamn it. He took the man's jutting cock into his mouth; eyes pointed upwards, and began slowly sucking. And goddamn it Erik couldn't say it didn't feel good. He was a little unpracticed, but Erik expected that from a seventeen year old. His eyes never left the boy below as he started bucking his hips lightly. And he wanted to; all out fuck into his mouth, but he didn't. Not yet. His left hand shot out and braced itself on the edge of the counter as his right tangled in chestnut hair. He'd always had a thing for brunets. A low moan left Erik's lips- -he didn't mean to; it just fucking happened—and Charles sped up, taking that as cue that he was doing all right. A little bit of teeth every now and then, but for the most part he was doing all right. Erik briefly wondered if this was the first actual cock Charles had ever had in his mouth. And then he wanted to die a little.

But then, when the boy started trying to choke himself, Erik had to pull back, pushing Charles' head away.

"Charles," he breathed. "This isn't a goddamn porno, you don't have to try and deep throat me." Correction: he _couldn't_ deep throat him. No one could. "And less teeth, you're sort of scraping me." Charles looked up at the man, sheepishly (and _fuck_, did that do shit to Erik's heart), and just nodded, about to go back to sucking, until-

"Wait." A hand to the boy's shoulder stopped him. Charles glanced up. Erik's curiosity got the best of him. "Have you ever done this before?"

A head shake confirmed Erik's fears. Damnit, the boy could have at least lied to him.

"Fuck," he bit out softly, running a hand down his face. He was Charles' first. No matter what the outcome of all this fuckuppery, he will always be Charles' first. The boy will never forget this. He pulled the teen up by the arm. "Shower, now," he commanded as he pushed the boy towards it. Charles was quick to lose his clothes- -Erik noticed he was trembling- -and then waited for Erik to do the same.

Erik whipped the shower curtain aside and turned the tap on as hot as it would go before pushing Charles in, stepping in after him and crushing a kiss to the boy's lips as he pushed him up against the wall. Charles moaned into the kiss- -only adding fuel to Erik's sinning fire- -and then grinded his own hard cock against the older man. Erik broke the kiss, slowly wishing that he would just die already, before reaching down and taking both their cocks in one large hand and stroking. The boy's cock was nearly dwarfed by Erik's— and it was almost funny, but nothing about this whole situation was at all comical to Erik, except for maybe the fact that now all the people who have ever told him to go to hell were going to get their wish—not that Charles' cock was small by any means, average at best, but compared to Erik's; especially like this: both them touching, it just looked ridiculous.

The older man worked both of their cocks, both of them getting wetter and wetter as the shower's water cascaded over them. Charles gasped, then surged up and pressed his mouth to Erik's, both men letting a wet moan escape into the other's mouth. It felt so wrong and so very right. Erik pumped them tighter, feeling Charles' cock pulse against his, signaling that he was close. Of course he was close; the boy was just jacking off not but ten minutes ago.

When Charles did come, he buried his face into Erik's wet shoulder and stifled a moan by sinking his teeth into the man's shoulder. Erik cursed, lightly, and watched as the teen's hot cum shot out and splattered all over both their cocks; both providing Erik with lube and making him want to crawl into the nearest hole and die.

Yet he found himself coming, groaning low in his throat as he reached up and tangled his free hand in Charles' hair, yanking the boy off his shoulder and smashing their lips together as he rode out his orgasm. He hoped he hurt the boy.

But Charles just kissed him back, ferociously, and groaned into Erik's mouth as both hands found the older man's face.

But what happened next caused Erik's heart to stop.

"Erik?"

Shit.

That was Shane. That was fucking Shane. At the bathroom door.

"Is that you in there?"

Erik jerked away from Charles, slapping his hand over the boy's mouth as his eyes widened with fear. He shook his head fervently before leaning down to the teen's ear, whispering: "You. It's just you in here." He slowly pulled his hand back and Charles swallowed, raising his voice to call out:

"No dad, it's me."

A pause.

"Have you seen Erik?"

He can see him right now. And he's quite naked and wet.

Erik shook his head fervently again; eyes still dangerous with warning, and Charles took in a shaky breath. "No," he replied, "I haven't seen him." Both their hearts were thrumming in their chests like a drum. It was a wonder Shane couldn't hear. Fuck.

Another momentary pause.

"Well, it's odd because all of his stuff is here: his car, his phone, his wallet… but he's gone." Erik could hear the drunkenness rolling off his lover. "I just don't get it-"

"Dad!" Charles hollered out, "I'm trying to fucking masturbate, do you mind?" Erik's eyes went even wider as he tried not to choke on his spit. He looked down at the boy and Charles just shrugged.

Well it worked.

"Oh," came Shane's voice. It sounded almost amused too. "Oh, sorry; I didn't know." A snicker (yep, definitely amused). "Next time close the door all the way," the man said as he did just that, leaving his son and his lover unknowingly in the shower together.

And at _that_ thought, Erik noticed his blood run cold. Either that or the hot water just ran out. He waited a beat, listening for the sound of their bedroom door to close before he let out a breath. He looked at Charles, and then whispered harshly at him: "You are to stay in here for another ten minutes, then go straight to your room. You got that?" The brunet nodded his head, his eyes still drunken with lust. Or maybe it was adrenaline. Christ, what has he done to the boy?

Erik went to slip out of the shower but Charles grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him into another kiss.

But Erik pulled away, giving the teen a sharp look. "No Charles, this doesn't happen again. You hear me?" He shook his head. "Never again." But the boy just smiled knowingly at him, and Erik realized right then and there that neither of them believed that ludicrous statement.

He was seriously fucked. Fucked beyond repair.

Making his way to the door, Erik locked it before he looked down at his clothes, and Jesus fuck, all Shane had to do was look in here and he would've seen both his son's and his clothes on the floor; mingled together. How did Erik get so lucky that that didn't happen? He took in a shuddering breath before he started to redress quickly, and thought up a plan. What was he going to say to Shane? The man already knew that Erik's crap was all here. He couldn't tell him that he went out; his car never left the driveway.

He was seriously fucking boned.

After he was dressed, all he could think was that he needed to get out of that room. He needed to get the hell out of that bathroom. The bathroom with Shane's son. Who was still in the shower. Naked. _Fuck_.

He glanced in the mirror, both palms resting on the counter as he looked at himself.

Crap. His hair was still wet. He couldn't very well go out there like that now could he? Shane would know for sure. He grabbed the hand towel and started furiously scrubbing at his hair, desperately trying to get it dry again. Once that was accomplished, he combed it back into place with his fingers, trying to get it to pass for half decent. Hopefully Shane would be well on his way to passed out before Erik got to the bedroom.

Erik leaned against the counter again, looking down at his hands. Fuck. The very hands that just brought both them off. He probably still had some of Charles' come on them. Erik turned the tap on and started scrubbing at his hands, trying to get it all off.

He didn't want to be responsible for having the boy's come on his hands.

"You still here?" Charles asked as he peered out from the shower curtain. A smile. "You want to go for round two?" Erik threw the hand towel at him, along with a nasty look.

"Keep your voice down you fucktard. Are you trying to get Shane to hear us?" He whispered sharply at the boy. Charles just smiled again before disappearing once more.

Sucking in a deep breath. Erik's heart hammered as he pressed his ear to the door; trying to listen for any sign of movement before he burst out of there like the guilty man he was.

He heard nothing. Thank fuck. The breath he had held in was released and he quietly- -so fucking quietly- -opened the door; peering around the corner with one eye before slipping out.

…

"Where were you?" Shane's slurred voice came as Erik sat down on the bed, pulling his shoes off. The blond sat up a bit to look at his boyfriend.

"The neighbors," Erik replied, dropping his other shoe to the ground. He looked over his shoulder at the man. "I was outside smoking and Terry came out to take the trash out. We started talking, told him you and I had a fight, so he invited me over for a beer." He raised an eyebrow. "I figured since you were out drinking, I would too."

A huff. "That's so typical of you," the blond retorted. He rolled back on his back. "We have a fight so you go to the one neighbor that I hate." He turned his back to Erik.

"I didn't go to him, he invited me." Christ, it was like talking to a fucking child at times.

Another juvenile sound from the other man. (See?) "Whatever," he mumbled, back still to Erik. Now Erik gritted his teeth together. What was even the point in trying to talk to the man when he was like this?

"You're not exactly being fair here, Shane," he said to the man's back. "You went out with someone I don't care for, so why does it bother you that I did the same?" Even though it was a lie; it was all a lie anyway. Splendid, they were having a fight, based on a lie. Erik should just drop it.

But it was too late; Shane was twisting back around and glaring at him. "Because you did it out of spite! I go out with Tony all the time. You don't see the difference here?"

"And that's the problem," Erik retorted back hotly. Damn it, he should really just drop it. "You go out with him all the time despite the fact that I don't like it. How do I know you're not doing it out of spite as well?"

Shane just stared at him, and then:

"I'm done with this conversation; I'm too drunk for this shit. I'm going to bed." He then turned back around and laid down again, back still to Erik.

If Erik was feeling guilty for earlier, it was suddenly going away. He narrowed his eyes at his lover's back as the rage boiled within him. He always does this. Shane _always_ does this. Instead of talking things out (or fighting them out, whatever), he just ends the conversation, refusing to partake it in any longer.

Erik ripped his pillow from the bed as he stood; refusing to spend the night next to the cold and uncaring man he called his partner. He stalked across the room, not once looking back as he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

…

Erik stopped at Charles' door- -it was closed- -and put his hand on it, waiting for a second.

But no: he shouldn't, not out of revenge. It just wasn't right.

He went downstairs to the couch instead.

…

When Erik awoke next, Shane was in the kitchen clanking around as he made coffee or something equally louder than it should be. The jerk. Charles was just coming downstairs, too.

Shirtless.

_Fuck_.

He flashed Erik a toothy grin before finding his way into the kitchen, where Shane was still fighting loudly with the coffeemaker. Maybe he was hungover and couldn't figure the damn thing out.

Good. Erik hoped his head hurt to all living hell.

"Morning Shane," Charles chimed, chipper as fucking ever. Gee, Erik wondered why that could be. They were both out to get him.

"You know how to make coffee?" The hungover man asked his son, looking over at him with bloodshot eyes. Erik couldn't find it in him to feel the least bit sorry for Shane. Charles just shrugged, giving his father a "what? I'm a kid, I don't know" look before turning and opening the fridge to pull out the milk.

Erik sat up more, the sheet he was using as bedding sliding off him as he did. He made his way to the kitchen, clad in only his boxers (what? His body looked good, he knew this) and that was about the time Charles' eyes got wide and he nearly dropped the carton of milk he was currently drinking out of.

But it wasn't because the man was half naked.

And no, Erik didn't have a boner either.

Erik was about to inquire what the fuck was wrong with Charles, but then he noticed the boy's eyes fixed on his shoulder and-

_Shit_.

Charles whipped the fridge door back open just in time for Erik to dive behind it; Shane's head coming up from the coffeemaker at the same time and looking over at them. "Erik, I know you're angry with me, but could you just please make me a cup of coffee? Then I promise I'll leave you alone." Shane said to the man behind the fridge door.

Erik slapped his hand over the bite mark on his shoulder, silently cursing Charles in both German and English before slipping back towards the couch where his shirt was, acting like he was scratching an itch the entire time.

"Yeah, whatever," Erik muttered, reaching for his shirt- -still fake scratching away; boy it was a stubborn itch- - and then slipped it on discreetly. He shot Charles (who was blushing red) a death look before returning to the kitchen to help his coffee incapable lover. Erik first plugged the machine in- -that always helped- -then filled it with water- -another important factor here- -before lastly placing a filter and coffee grounds in it. He flipped the switch on, gave Shane a look, and then walked away.

Somewhere on the way upstairs though, Erik realized that he had to remember to wear a shirt around his lover for the next- -oh, he didn't know- -_week_, or so? Fucking Charles.

No: fucking _Erik_. He's the one who didn't say no. It was his responsibility to put an end to… that. But he didn't, he just let it happen. _Weak_. He was weak.

…

Erik looked in the bathroom mirror fresh from the shower; towel wrapped around his waist, and eyed the mark.

Christ, you could even see each tooth mark. There'd be no denying what that was. He covered it with his hand and then opened his palm again, exposing the broken flesh. How did he let things get so carried away last night? He wished he could blame the booze, but knew that was a damn lie. Anyone who ever tried to use the excuse that they were too drunk to realize what was happening was just lying to themselves and everyone else.

Erik was at least man enough to own up to his mistakes.

Not that he was going to tell Shane- -oh fuck no- -Erik wasn't that stupid. This was just a mistake, a once only event- -a one off, if you will. There will be no repeats of last night. That was the last of that-

A knock came at the door and Erik jumped, reaching for a shirt to throw on. But Charles' voice soothed his concerns.

Then made his heart plummet.

"It's me. Can I come in?"

Erik took in a ragged breath, his nerves on end and his heart working overtime. "Where's Shane?" he asked the door.

A pause. "He's sleeping; passed the fuck back out." Another pause. "I think he was still drunk." Charles tapped on the door. "Let me in."

Erik just stared at the door, and then: "Why?"

The tapping stopped. "Because."

Typical teenager response. Erik rolled his eyes. "Are you sure he's out?" he asked through the door, keeping his voice just soft enough that only Charles would hear.

He hoped.

A small laugh. "He's out like a light," Charles replied. "I poked him a good few times just to be sure." The boy probably did too, the ass. Erik unlocked and opened the door, looking out at the brunet. Thank god he had a shirt on finally, Erik noted as his eyes landed on him. He wasn't sure how much more of that he could take.

"What do you want?" He asked again, and not very kindly either. But still, the teen just smiled brightly at him.

"I think you know what I want," he replied, pushing on the door so he could take a step in. Erik let him, too, and took his own step back.

"Close the door," he told Charles as he went back to the mirror, inspecting the brunet's handiwork. "I'm going to have to wear a shirt for a week now thanks to you," Erik said as Charles shut the door, locking it behind him.

He smiled. "Sorry," he replied. Erik glanced at him through the mirror, noting the "not sorry" smile on his lips. He pointed this out to him too. Charles just shrugged. "I am though, really," he said.

Erik rolled his eyes. "No more marks," he told him sternly. And he meant it too. He was not some fucking teenager that Charles could mark with hickeys and bruises and such. He looked at the younger male.

Charles was, however, a teenager.

He shook that thought right out of his head. _Fuck_.

"So you're saying there'll be a next time?" Charles inquired as he came closer.

Fuck, Erik did say that, didn't he? He shook his head, looking at Charles straight on now instead of through the mirror. "No Charles," he said firmly, "there will not be a next time. Last night was a mistake- -that will not be happening again."

And he meant it, he really did.

Charles took another step closer. "Somehow," he murmured, coming even more into Erik's personal space, "I don't think you believe that either."

A catching breath came from the older man and Charles wrapped one hand around Erik's neck as he placed his mouth to the bite mark on Erik's shoulder, sucking lightly. Erik's eyes fluttered shut as a breathy moan left his mouth under its own accord. When Charles pulled back, with a wet pop, and flashed his eyes up to the taller man; both of them bluer with want, his lips next found Erik's mouth; using the tips of his toes to achieve this.

Erik growled deep in his throat, torn between throwing the boy off him and pulling him closer. A soft noise came from Charles as their lips melded together and Erik wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and hoisted him up into the kiss more.

Well, looks like the latter of the two won out on that one.

Charles found himself up on the countertop in no time, Erik's mouth still firmly attached to his as the older man tried to suck the life out of him. Charles opened his mouth and let Erik's tongue dive in; it tasting him and exploring the area with earnest. The boy wrapped his legs around Erik's waist, his arms going to shoulders, and held the man close, deepening the kiss impossibly more.

Good lord, he couldn't breathe. Thankfully Charles pulled back with a gasp, looking hotly into Erik's drunk lust eyes. The man looked so very conflicted. "Erik," he rasped. "I-I want you to fuck me."

_Jesus_. Erik had to take a step back; he shook his head as a tired hand dragged down his face. What the fuck was he doing? He looked back up at Charles.

"No," he told the boy. And he really fucking meant it this time too. He shook his head again. "No Charles," he repeated, because lord knows _someone_ needed to believe it.

The brunet frowned. "Why not? Do you not want to?" Fuck on a stick, was he pouting too? Erik was ruined. "I thought you wanted to fuck me, Erik."

Oh god, he has to stop talking now. Erik's head snapped up to the boy, a stern look on his normally stern face.

Oh, well, so then he just looked normally at the boy. "Just… stop. Stop saying that. Please. I can't- -I- -_please_, just don't say those words together in a sentence again. Ever." The more he hears it, the more he knows it's going to come true. _Fuck_.

As if he could sense the older man's weakness, Charles just went on. "But I want you to fuck me Erik, please; I want you to be my first." He leaned in closer, just enough to whisper in the taller man's ear, "Take my virginity Erik, please."

God. _Damnit_.

Erik had to leave, he had to leave _now_. This was _insane_. He took another step back from the teen, head shaking and all. "This is insane Charles, utterly fucking insane. We can't do this- -we _won't_ do this." He looked at the boy. "I'm leaving. I'm not- - I'm not fucking you here: in the bathroom, on the counter, while Shane is passed out downstairs. This is just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "_Fuck_."

But Charles just smiled as Erik had his little freak out- -panic attack maybe, giving his age and stress level—and watched as Erik paced the bathroom floor, slightly cursing to himself. The older man looked back up at the brunet perched on the counter, satisfied look on his face.

"You," Erik said, pointing a shaky finger at him. "_You_." A pause. "You are- -you're- -you're-" he took in a breath. "You're fucking ridiculous," he breathed.

And then kissed Charles again, violently.

The kiss turned steamier than planned and Erik literally had to rip himself away, not glancing back as he fled from the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a slam.

To hell with it, to hell with it all. This was all so very fucked up and wrong. All of it.

…

Erik had never jerked off so viciously in his life. It was as if he was trying to punish his cock or something. Which he kind of was. He didn't even make it to the bed; he just slammed his bedroom door shut and slid down it, losing his towel in the process and started stroking his cock like it was the end of the world.

Which in some senses, it sort of was.

His eyes closed as a short gasp tumbled from his mouth, his hand working faster. It wasn't as good without Charles' plump little teenager cock nestled next to his, but it would do. He pulled his strokes upwards, getting all the feeling and pressure he could. But when his other hand reached up and touched the bite mark on his shoulder, tracing each tooth indentation, was when he went crashing over the edge; him coming like an explosion- -a volcano erupting was more like it- -as he gasped out with a stuttering breath, Charles' name a whisper on his tongue.

_Well fuck_, Erik thought as he came down from his high, his orgasm being pulled from his body so violently, _looks like the jokes on me_.

He thought he'd ruin Charles, but it seemed that it was the boy who had ruined him.

How fucking cliché.

…

Later that week, Shane uttered the words that Erik feared the most.

"I have to go out of town this weekend, I have a business meeting." Erik just stared at him, unblinking. This must be some sort of cosmic joke the universe is playing on him, really. It's as if someone _wants_ him and Charles to be alone together.

"How long?" He nearly choked out, fear racing through his body. Shane sighed, turning away from the panicking man.

"Just till Sunday night, you'll be fine without me."

That, was not what Erik was afraid of.

"Trust me," Shane went on, walking over to the closet to pull out his suitcase, "I would much rather stay here and hangout with you guys." He pouted at the suitcase after putting it on the bed. "Charles' little friends are going to come over this weekend, aren't they?"

Hmm, it had been a while since those juvenile delinquents had been over; perhaps Erik won't have to worry about being alone with Charles on Friday night at least. "Yeah, probably," he told Shane as the man opened his luggage.

A sigh. "Lucky. I hate meetings," he grumbled. He suddenly looked back at Erik. "One rule though." Erik swallowed, his throat heavy all of a sudden. "None of his little friends are allowed in our room without adult supervision." Shane then glanced off towards the bottom drawer of their dresser. "I don't want them to find our… unmentionables," he muttered.

Jesus Christ. Erik rolled his eyes. "You mean your porn stash?"

"Not just that!" Shane snapped, becoming defensive all of a sudden. Erik laughed at him, like seriously fucking laughed at him.

"What else is there, Shane? I'm pretty sure all those boys know what lube and condoms are… well, maybe not Hank (Shane hid a chuckle behind his hand), but come on, I'm sure they won't be scarred for life if they find anything else. What? Do we have a dildo lying around that I forgot about?"

"No," Shane said as he crossed the room to their dresser, opening the top drawer, "Buuut," he reached in and pulled something out. "We still have _this_." He smiled wildly as he held up the article of clothing- -if it can really be called "clothing"- -with one finger and gave his lover a knowing look.

Erik deadpanned. "…It's a banana hammock," he observed.

"I got you this for your birthday last year," Shane said matter-factly, like the man forgot, or perhaps even tried to suppress the memory.

"I recall."

Shane sighed. "I knew you didn't like it."

"I never led you to believe that I did."

The underwear was flung across the room by the elastic and smacked into Erik, who finally laughed. He bent down and picked it up, holding it out with two hands as he eyed it before looking back to Shane with a cocked eyebrow. "Shane, this thing is offensive," he said with a smile (Shane was trying hard not to follow suit). "If you remember when I did put it on, it looked just as it implied: my junk," a pause. "Actually looked." Another pause. "Like a banana in a hammock." A scandalous look to his lover.

His demeanor finally broke too and Shane laughed. "Oh come on, you're selling yourself short." He looked fondly to Erik before walking over to the man. "I wouldn't say it looked like a banana in a hammock," he murmured, touching Erik's chest as he leaned in closer. "I would say it looked more like a _plantain_ in a hammock. The banana's _much_ larger cousin."

Okay, Erik had to laugh at that; this man was just plain being ridicul-

He froze at that thought right there.

"Come on," Shane said, unaware of his lover's sudden change. "I leave tomorrow, so let's make the most of tonight." He removed the yellow underwear from Erik's hand and tossed it over his shoulder before surging up to kiss the man.

It took a second, but Erik finally remembered just where he was and kissed Shane back, groaning softly into his lover's mouth as his eyes slid shut and his hands resumed their normal spot around the man's waist.

After Shane broke the kiss, he looked hungrily up into the taller man's eyes. "Take me to bed, Mr. Lehnsherr," he said dramatically and Erik couldn't help the eyeroll or the snort, but he complied.

…

The loud moaning began and Charles gritted his teeth together as he climbed the stairs to his room. Did they have to be so fucking loud? What the hell? There was a teenage in the house as well, and he didn't want to hear this shit. Charles' hand gripped tightly on the banister and he stopped in the middle of the stairs, anger flooding his veins. He was going to punch the fucking wall here in a minute.

A split second of silence, and then another throaty moan floated through the vent and practically smacked Charles in the face. He felt his blood boil. _Fucking assholes._ He didn't even register that his hand was starting to cramp until he finally released its death grip on the banister, shaking it to get the feeling back.

Fine, Erik wants to play that fucking game, then it's on. Charles darted up the stairs the rest of the way, trying his hardest to ignore the "_oh god Erik, right there; that spot right there_" as he ran to his room. He slammed the door shut behind him, hoping it was loud.

He then opened it again, and reslammed it, even harder this time.

And then again. And again. And again. And once more after that.

…

"What the fuck do you think all that was about?" Shane asked, breath still strained and body flushed with heat as he looked over at Erik, who was just as thoroughly fucked looking. Erik ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back into place before glancing over at Shane.

He shrugged, half ass, and said: "Who knows, he's a fucking teenager."

Shane sighed then snuggled closer to Erik, laying his head on the man's shoulder as his eyes closed. "Yeah, you're right."

But the truth was, Erik did know.

…

"You want to explain to me what the fuck all that was about last night," Erik said to Charles then next morning, the second he cornered the boy in the kitchen, Shane already gone. The boy just peered up at the older man, anger still in his eyes. And was that also betrayal Erik saw? What the fuck?

"Why'd you fuck him?" Charles asked (more like sneered). Erik had to blink. He was honest-to-god thrown by that. He looked down at the boy.

"Excuse fucking me?"

Another hard stare Erik's way. "Why would you fuck him when you could fuck me?"

Dear lord this was getting out of control. Erik's hand landed on the counter and he held on tight as he towered over the young man. "Because," he said sharply, "he's my partner, my lover, my _boyfriend_. Why wouldn't I fuck him?" Erik was about five seconds away from blowing a gasket. Just because he a made mistake…

Who the fuck did the kid think he was?

But Charles was unfazed by Erik's threatening stature; he just held his ground, still gazing hotly up at the man before him. "And what about me?" Erik blinked. He was serious, this boy was actually serious. Erik took in a breath through his nose before glaring daggers at the kid.

"You," he started slowly, "were a mistake."

A small gasp left Charles. The look on his face was so utterly broken and sad it almost made Erik want to take his words back right then and there. _Fuck_, he looked shattered. Perhaps Erik did ruin him after all.

The boy shook his head, his bottom lip looked like it was trying not to quiver but was failing miserably. He just stared at Erik for a minute, unsure whether to cry or hit the man, but then his whole face shifted completely and he gave the older man a hard look. "Fine," he bit out calmly. It was almost eerier how calm the boy was all of a sudden. "Fine," he repeated, pushing past Erik and making his way to the couch where he flopped down.

Erik sighed and waited a second before turning around to look at the boy. "What are you doing?" he asked plainly. Charles didn't turn his face to meet the man; he just turned the TV on. Erik watched him for a moment. "Aren't you going to school?" He tried again.

Finally Charles responded. "No."

A sigh. "Why not?" Not that Erik cared, wasn't his son.

"Don't feel like it."

Fuck, how old was this kid now, twelve? _No, he was twelve five years ago_, Erik's mind supplied for him, and then promptly felt sick. "Whatever," he muttered, turning back to the coffeepot that had his name written all over it. "Well I have work today, so you'll be on your own." Not that Erik cared what Charles did, he really didn't.

A snort floated his way and Erik looked back to the couch, pot in hand. He arched an eyebrow.

"You actually work?" Charles asked critically, head still facing the idiot box. Erik narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, I work," he replied, setting the coffeepot back down. Who the fuck did this kid think he was? The little smart ass.

"Could've fooled me," the brunet mumbled.

Wait, what? What was this kid trying to get at? Erik came more into the living room, even though his mind was screaming: _don't take the bait, don't take the bait_. "I don't know what the hell that's supposed to mean, but I do work, Charles. I'll have you know that." He didn't know why he was saying any of this to the boy, he had nothing to prove.

A small chuckle. "Yeah?" Charles asked, finally turning his face to look at the man. "And just what is it that you do?"

Erik looked at him for a moment, blinking, and then:

"I work on cars. It's only part-time until I find-"

But he was cutoff with another snort; and this one seemed to have a hint of humor behind it as well. Erik felt his blood start to boil. "So Shane's the main provider then," Charles remarked, turning back to the TV.

Erik blinked. "Excuse me?" He was going to hurt this little shit, right here in the living room.

"Shane's the breadwinner and you are just the leech who sucks off of him. How much do you make a week? Two hundred dollars?"

Erik just stared for a second, unsure what to say, because: _fuck_.

"I make more than that," Erik said. Not really though. Charles hit the nail right on the head. That asswipe. "And whys that matter to you anyways?" He really shouldn't egg the kid on, but he just couldn't help it: Erik was getting pissed.

Charles really knew how to push his buttons.

Still gazing stupidly at the TV, Charles just replied: "And here I thought YOU were the man in the relationship."

That was it.

In a flash Erik grabbed the back of the couch and whipped it down nearly to the ground, causing Charles to roll back and land right under Erik's scrutinizing stare. "Listen here you little shithead," he growled at the boy, hands still holding the couch's back just inches from the ground, "I don't know who the fuck you think you are all of a sudden but last time I checked you lived in OUR house under OUR rules, so I'd suggest you remember that and straighten the _fuck_ up before I convince Shane to just ship your ass off to a boarding school somewhere until you turn eighteen." He looked deathly serious into Charles' eyes. "You got that, _boy_?"

His own eyes wide, Charles just nodded wordless. Erik tipped the couch back upright and turned away.

"Good."

…

Erik got off work that day around three, way before Shane's work clock ended.

What? He wasn't joking when he said he only worked part-time. He closed the front door behind him, half expecting to find Charles still on the couch and dumber than he'd left him, but the boy was gone; only silence filled the living room.

Probably up in his room. Where else would he be? Erik sighed. He should probably apologize to the kid for earlier. He shouldn't have threatened him with boarding school, that probably wasn't very nice. But Erik was just so angry earlier, Charles was really pushing his buttons. Why does it matter who brings home the bacon? He and Shane are just fine with their arrangement. Fuck Charles if he doesn't like it, it's not like HE has a job. The little shit.

Erik climbed the stairs, heading straight for the boy's room. He'd apologize for the threat, but nothing else; he still stood by calling Charles a shithead and telling him he needed to straighten out. He reached for the boy's doorknob and turned.

"Charles, I need to talk to you about-"

And froze.

Of course. This is why you don't just walk into someone's room.

Charles, who was flushed in the face, just looked over to Erik, from under some man- -Yes; a fucking _man_- - and gasped: "Erik."

"The fuck is that?" The mysterious stranger, who had no place being on top of Charles like that, said.

Thank fuck they were both still clothed; that would've made throwing the guy out awkward for both him and Erik.

"His father," Erik sneered before he even realized it. Charles' eyes grew wide as he pushed the man up and off of him a bit. Oh, wonderful, now Erik could see Charles' trapped erection. That's just the icing on the fucked up cake. His eyes landed back on the man. "How the fuck old are you?" he growled. And yes, he realizes the irony here too.

The guy looked to Charles and then to Erik. "Nineteen?" he shrugged. Jesus Christ. Erik could've slapped his forehead at the guy's stupidity. Where did Charles find this moron?

"How old are you really?" He snarled at the man, taking a step closer. Erik can be quite threatening when need be.

Which is all the time.

Eyes still wide with panic, the stranger replied, "Twenty-four."

Whelp that was enough for Erik: he was across the room and manhandling the future victim of "To Catch a Predator" (yes, yes, Erik's still aware of what a fucking hypocrite he's being) out of Charles' room and down the stairs, ignoring Charles' cry of "Erik!"

Once at the front door, Erik slammed the guy up against the wall and growled in his face. "If I ever see you near my son again, I'll fucking gut you alive and leave you for dead." He tightened his hold on the guy's shirt, slamming him up against the wall more. "You got me?"

The petrified, and probably traumatized, man just nodded his head fervently, eyes wide as saucers before he found himself being loosened from Erik's grip.

Never had Erik ever seen anyone flee from a house so fast before. He was somewhat proud.

No, actually, he was still _pissed_. He turned back around and found an equally terrified Charles on the stairs, watching Erik with some sort of wonder in his eyes.

Either that or fondness; Erik wasn't quite sure; he was still too busy seeing red. The little shit, he probably planned all this. Erik was across the room and up the stairs, stopping where the boy was. He glared at him.

"So you want to be fucked by a man?" he asked harshly, and it was amazing how Erik could still be so intimidating even while standing one step lower and looking up at the boy.

Slowly, Charles nodded his head and then swallowed, fear dancing back and forth between his eyes.

Erik breathed. "Then get your ass up to my bed," he growled lowly. "Now."

Charles didn't need to be told twice.

…

Erik looked at the boy—teenager; he's a fucking teenager, not a boy (not that that makes it any better)— on his bed. He looked both scared and excited, like a nervous ball of energy.

He was going to be a great lay.

"Take off your clothes, Charles." Erik said as he leaned against the doorframe, arms folded as his heart nearly exploded in his chest. He shouldn't be this nervous- -_the boy_ should be nervous- -not him. He's in control here, not Charles.

Slowly, and with shaky hands- -Erik was going to act like he didn't notice that- -Charles removed his shirt, then his pants; until he was just wearing his boxers. Erik gazed at his body with his eyes, raking them unhurried over the teen's figure.

He liked what he saw, again. Although that time in the bathroom went by in such a blur Erik hardly even remembered the details. He wasn't going to forget this however, no; this was what was going to do him in.

After this, it was all over.

"Touch yourself," Erik commanded next, his heart no less threatening to burst from his chest. He needed to space himself from the boy until he could get that under control. "Get yourself hard for me."

Charles complied, laying back on his back, head resting gently against a pillow- -Erik's pillow- -and slowly traced his fingers down his chest and stomach, eyeing the man in the doorway as he did. His hand slipped under the hem of his boxers, and then all Erik could do was watch as the boy palmed his steadily hardening cock.

It was both fucking beautiful and deadly at the same time.

A small gasp came from Charles, his eyes never leaving Erik, as he began stroking, his cock more than halfway there now. He took in a shaky breath, eyes burning a hole through the man at the door, and breathed: "Come here."

It was almost erotic enough to make Erik gasp out his own breath, but no; he was still in control here. He would not let this boy destroy him. Erik was perfectly capable of doing that to himself, thank you very much. He pushed off the doorframe and made his way over, eyes still glued on the boy, and sat down. Charles was still pumping his cock, a little faster now, so Erik reached out and stopped him with a hand to the wrist. "Slow down, Charles," he murmured. "You don't want this to end so soon, do you?" The brunet gazed at Erik, eyes bluer than normal, and shook his head. "No," he replied, hand stopping.

"Let's get these off you," Erik said softly, reaching with both hands now to grasp onto the hem of Charles' boxers. Charles slipped his hand out and watched with a slightly heaving chest as the older man slowly pulled his underwear down, removing them completely. Once exposed, Charles shivered, suddenly very aware of the situation he was in, and the fact that he was completely naked and Erik was fully dressed. He had a fleeting fear that the older man was going to just up and laugh at him, whip out a camera and snap a picture, tell him he was going to show his father and have him sent to the furthest away bordering school there was. Tell him what a fucked up _child_ he was.

But instead, Erik's hand (slightly trembling) hovered over him, until he brought it down slowly, Charles gasping out as contact was made. Light fingers traced idly across his stomach, then trailed lower. Another small gasp came from Charles when the tips of Erik's fingers skimmed lightly over his cock, thus making it twitch. Erik traced his fingers (two of them: the middle ones) down the entire length of the teen's cock, watching as Charles squirmed underneath his scrutinizing touch. He nearly brought the younger man to pieces just by this alone, it was almost enough to make Erik feel heady with power. He felt like he could dominate this boy, should he so choose.

Erik's forefinger found the small bead of precum sitting under Charles' heavy cock, tempting him with its shininess. He smeared the clear liquid across the boy's skin, earning him yet another gasp from the brunet.

"You really are a virgin, aren't you Charles?" Erik said after a heated moment, eyes heavy on the teen. Charles simply nodded, a breath hitching in his throat. Erik wasn't sure if he wanted to curl into a ball and die or shoot his load off right then and there. Fucking Christ, of course he's a virgin. Explains his porno learned blowjob he attempted to give Erik the other day.

"I'm going to hurt you, Charles."

The boy licked his licks, nervously. "I don't care," he whispered. "I _want_ you to be my first." Goddamn it. Erik had to suppress a groan. This was fucking terrible, everything about this was terrible. Charles really needed to shut the fuck up. Stop. Talking. Erik swallowed.

"Were you really going to let that guy fuck you?" He asked, hand traveling back up Charles' stomach, until it reached chest. He laid his hand flat down; feeling the boy's hammering heart.

Again, Charles used his head to communicate with the man; he shook it softly, locks of hair brushing across his face.

"You were just using him to make me jealous?"

A head nod.

Erik felt a low growl in the back of his throat as he gazed down hotly at the boy. He wanted to both rip him in two and fuck him until they were both panting and drunk with lust. It was oh so very conflicting.

"You're nothing but trouble, Charles," the older man growled. Charles took in a small ragged breath, locking eyes with the man.

"I thought I was ridiculous," he breathed. Erik leaned down and sealed their lips together, kissing him for the sake of shutting him the hell up. Charles brought a hand up to hold the man's head down; kissing him fully and with passion. Erik slipped a tongue between Charles' lips and explored his mouth; tasting him for all he's worth.

He pulled back. "I can't believe I'm kissing you after you had your tongue down that guy's throat," Erik said with a hint of jealousy/possession- -not that he'd ever admit to that or anything of the sorts.

"I can't believe I'm kissing you after you kissed my father," Charles retorted, small smile on his face. He then winced.

That… that was the wrong thing to say.

Erik pulled away, as if he'd been slapped- -which, he kind of was; but by words- -and turned away from the boy, putting his back to him as he took in a deep, unstable breath.

Good god. What was he doing?

Charles sat up, placing a hand to the older man's back. "Erik?" He breathed. "I'm sorry, I- -I didn't mean-"

"Don't," Erik said, cutting the other man off. He kept his back to Charles. "Just, _don't_. Don't mention him. Not now. Not _ever_. Not during this." He finally turned his face back, peering at the boy. Charles placed a kiss to Erik's shoulder (the man shuddered) before resting his head there next. He nodded against Erik's skin, eyes closing.

"I'm sorry."

A sigh from Erik and then he turned around more, bringing a hand to Charles' face and tipping his chin up until their lips met again. The kiss was softer this time, almost caring. But then soon enough, Erik was breaking it; pulling away and turning back around completely again to face the boy. The life-ruining boy. He gently pushed Charles back down on his back, watching the teen with heavy eyes. Once Charles was back down, only then did Erik remove his own shirt; peeling it over his head and tossing it away. Charles sucked in a breath at the sight of Erik's sculpted chest, admiring it for all it's worth. He then brought a trembling hand up to touch it; feel the soft skin, yet toned muscles. It was… amazing. Nothing like the shirtless boys he'd seen in gym class. This was much better. This was a _man_.

Erik found the boy's hand with his own and brought it to his mouth, placing a kiss to the knuckles before letting Charles continue his exploring; the teen trailing his hand down Erik's chest to his stomach now, until it reached the top button of his jeans.

Charles' eyes flashed back to Erik's. "May I?"

The older man swallowed before nodding, tearing his gaze away from blue to look down; watching as Charles used a shaky hand to undo his pants. Once his fly was open, Charles snaked his hand in, carefully, and found Erik's cock. It wasn't hard to do: the thing was massive. A rasp left Erik's mouth as cold fingers curled around his member- -already hard, of course- -Charles' breath picking up as he attentively felt Erik's girth.

But then Erik was standing, removing his jeans all the way- -no point in dragging this out any longer; the decision's already been made- -and stepping out of them before sitting back down on the bed, now fully naked as well. Charles sat up and met Erik with a kiss, putting his hand on the man's chest again and pushing into the kiss more. Erik wrapped one arm around Charles' waist and held him close, groaning into his mouth as the kiss deepened.

When Charles broke away, it was so he could mouth wetly down Erik's jaw and throat, pulling another low groan from the older man as he did. Erik tipped his head back, eyes closing, and let Charles bring him to pieces.

Funny how things work out like that.

Erik's other hand found the back of Charles' neck and he held him there firmly, forcing Charles' mouth to press more against his skin. The brunet lavished the older man's skin with kisses, sucking and licking as he did, until he pulled back for air, breathing in and locking eyes with Erik.

"I thought you said no marks," Charles commented.

"It doesn't matter," Erik replied quickly. None of this mattered anymore. Charles frowned, confused by that.

"What does that mean?" he asked but Erik was already kissing him again; pushing the boy down and back onto his back as Erik made his way more onto the bed. He covered Charles with his body, kissing him richly, their erections touching and sending sparks of pleasure through each man's body. Charles whimpered into Erik's mouth and arched his back up until their cocks brushed each other again, gaining more pleasure throughout.

Erik broke with a low groan, looking recklessly down at the boy. "It's going to hurt," he warned again, as if he was making sure to give Charles fair enough warning in backing out now if he wanted to.

Because once Erik breached him, there'd be no stopping, not until he splattered his hot come deep inside the teen.

"I know," Charles breathed, looking at Erik just as deadly, "I don't care though; I want to do this." He surged back up and kissed Erik fully on the mouth, both men moaning. Erik pulled away after and sat up; coming off the teen's body. He motioned for Charles to move up more on the bed, until he was all the way up by the headboard while Erik retrieved a bottle of slick from his bedside drawer.

"I need to open you up," he told the boy when he saw the fear and doubt in his eyes. "I'll go as slow as I can, but I assure you this will hurt at first, but there will also be some pleasure underneath it all. You just need to relax and do exactly as I say." He looked seriously at the boy. "Can you do that for me Charles?"

The younger man nodded, still eyeing the bottle of lubricant. He took in a deep breath, calming his nerves. Never had he been more excited and frightened than when he had Erik in the shower the other day. But this… this was going to be much better. He was so ready, and yet so terrified. He was sure he'd remember this forever.

"Actually," Erik muttered, eyeing a pillow before his eyes landed back on Charles, "turn over; it'll be easier. And give me that pillow." Erik motioned with his hand to the pillow Charles was laying on. The boy swallowed, once, and then sat up, handing Erik the pillow he had been leaning on, and then flipped over onto his belly.

Jesus Christ.

"Hips up," Erik said, and then guided the pillow underneath when Charles complied. "Perfect." Charles felt a warm palm run down his back; starting at his shoulders and ending on his ass. A shiver worked its way through his body and he closed his eyes, as raspy moan leaving his mouth. He loved when Erik touched him.

"Relax for me, Charles," he heard Erik murmur and then felt lips press to his left shoulder. Charles drew in a long breath through his nose and exhaled softly from his mouth; washing away all his fears and anxiety. "That's a good boy," came another murmur, and then he felt Erik's hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks. A shudder came from Charles as he buried his face in the other pillow and closed his eyes.

Erik meticulously probed one slicked up finger- -just the tip- -into Charles' entrance, trying to ignore the sound of his thrumming heart in his ears. It was all that he could hear, all that he could focus on. All he could feel.

A whimper came from the boy and Erik was brought back to, realizing that he was down to the middle knuckle; Charles' tight heat engulfing his finger and sending promises of what was about to come for his cock.

"You okay?" Erik asked, wondering when his forehead started to sweat. It was suddenly very hot in there. The brunet looked back, over his shoulder, and nodded; gasping out a short "yes". Erik had to take in his own breath before he went on: pushing his finger in more, all the way to the last knuckle, filling the boy up all the way. Another breathless noise from the boy and Erik had to swallow.

This was… this was almost too much.

Erik wiped his forehead with his other hand, then put it back on Charles' hip; holding the boy down. He twisted the lone finger inside Charles, earning a long groan, and then pulled out slightly, twisting back in just to hear Charles make that sound again.

And the heat, the fucking heat that his finger felt- -not to mention the tightness- -was making Erik heady with need. It was almost too much to take in at once.

Much like Erik's cock would be.

He took in his own stuttering breath and then twisted again, still just one finger, and worked on opening the teen up. All the while Charles was moaning and panting- -making the most obscene noises Erik's ever heard- -and gripped onto the sheets like they were his lifeline.

"Is it too much, Charles?" he asked, stopping momentarily; hand on the boy's hip loosening its grip. But Charles just shook his head- -face still buried in the pillow- -and muffled out a "no, keep going." Erik sucked in a breath and then started moving his finger again- -fucking Christ, it should be a law to be this tight- -he then pulled the finger out, after a minute, added more lube and snuck in a second finger right beside it.

He was pretty sure Charles noticed, if the teen's head coming up and out of the pillow followed by a loud keening sound was anything to go by. "Shh, just relax Charles," Erik said with a soothing voice, running his free hand down Charles' back again, trying to calm him. "Take it easy, I'm going as slow as I can." And had this been anyone else, Erik would already be balls deep and thrusting.

"I'm trying," Charles rasped out, placing his cheek on the pillow now so he could breathe. "It just feels so weird." He gripped the bed sheets tighter. "I'm not used to this feeling."

"You want me to stop?" Erik asked as he sat back more, hand stopping as he looked to the boy. And Charles just looked back at him, eyes pleading, and said: "No, don't stop. We're this far, no point in stopping now." He licked his lips, not realizing how dry they were until he did. "It feels good too," he breathed. "It's just… weird, and good. I don't know, I can't describe it." Erik nodded.

"That's good Charles, you're doing well. Just keep relaxing for me, don't tense." He started twisting again, two fingers to the last knuckle, and Charles' face went back to the pillow. A small muffled moan followed shortly thereafter.

The noises were what was killing Erik the most: they were the most erotic thing he'd ever heard. It was taking all his control to not just all out ram his cock into the teen and fuck him raw. Fuck him until Charles' throat was raw. From screaming.

He wanted to make Charles scream, too.

"I'm going to add a third finger now," Erik rasped- -and since when did his voice sound that unsure? He blinked the thought away and removed his fingers- -ignoring that goddamn obscene wet suction noise that followed. He was _not_ going to lose control; not now, not later. He's made it this far.

Charles tensed for a second, and then remembered Erik's words and relaxed, letting out a soft exhale as he did. His eyes fluttered open as he placed his chin to the pillow, no longer smothering himself. Behind him, Erik withdrew his fingers, reluctantly- -they were so warm inside the boy- -and added more slick, making sure to coat them nicely.

This time when he went back in, Charles nearly did scream; the teen having to bite down on his lip to muffle the sound.

"Do I need to stop, Charles?" Erik asked in concern. And since when did he _care_? Charles, again, shook his head no, his breath coming out in pants (which did so much shit to Erik's cock: heavy against his stomach as he prepped the teen).

"I'm fine," he replied, cheek going back to pillow so Erik could see his face… well, at least half of it. Erik watched Charles' expressions as he twisted the fingers in further, his heart nearly exploding in his chest when Charles' eyes screwed shut and his mouth fell open slightly; a look of pure abandon on the teen's face as he gave himself completely to Erik, trusting him with his body, mind and soul.

Erik almost gasped, pulling his fingers out from the shock of it. Charles glanced back at him- -fucking _wrecked_ look on his young face (Christ, Erik hasn't even _fucked_ him yet) and asked: "What's wrong?"

So many things.

Erik shook his head, still dazed, and replied: "Nothing," with breath.

Why was this so difficult?

He shook his head once and the placed a hand to Charles' upper back; pushing the boy back down. "It's okay, I'm fine. Just lay back down." The boy looked at him for a moment, but then complied, lying back down and relaxing his body once more.

The older man added more lube to his fingers- -why not? They're out now- -before slipping them back in, picking up the rhythm right where he left off, twisting and pulling; fingers moving in and out with almost ease now.

In fact, it was getting easy. Almost too easy. How long had he been at this for now? He wiped the sweat from his forehead again before using that hand to spread one of Charles' asscheeks, watching as his fingers slid in and out.

With one quick motion, he then removed his fingers, hearing Charles inhale a small gasp as he did.

And then he spoke.

"I think you're ready Charles."

Another hitching breath came from the boy and Erik's heart sped up more- -if fucking possible- -before he kneed his way closer. He looked at Charles for a second, looking at the way his body was positioned before he said: "On your knees, I think it would be easier," and then sent a small smack to the boy's hip. Charles moaned and then pushed himself up, so his ass was perfect height for Erik to enter, and kept his face in the mattress, resting on forearms. He pressed his cheek to the bed so he could breathe and closed his eyes, waiting for Erik's cock to penetrate him.

"I'll go slowly," Erik muttered, smearing a liberal amount of slick on his cock- -his cock that was ready to _burst_; it harder than Erik's ever remembered it being before- -and then kneed his way closer. He placed a hand on Charles' lower back, pushing down slightly (adjusting him _just_ how he wanted the boy) and pressed the blunt head of his cock against the teen's hole.

Already, a ball tightening moan came from Charles and Erik hadn't even pushed in yet. His cockhead was just sitting there, teasing the younger man with the notion of being fucked. Charles looked back, over his shoulder with life-ruining eyes and said:

"Please Erik," on a breath.

_Fuck_.

How was Erik supposed to say no to that?

Wait. Why _would_ he say no to that? He's already made it this far; hell's only a doorstep away. "Christ Charles," the older man grumbled as he tightened his hold on the boy's hip. And since when was he gripping Charles' hip? Oh well. Fuck it, it didn't matter. All that mattered was he was about to push into that tight, hot hole, of Charles'.

Using his right hand— left one still stationed on the boy's hip— Erik pushed in; the head of his cock slipping in with almost ease.

Almost.

A low keening sound left Charles this time and Erik was positive this would be over embarrassingly soon. Erik sucked in a breath and then pushed in again, gaining another inch or so.

"Oh god Erik," Charles moaned out, his head tipping back just like in all the good pornos.

And Erik really wished Charles didn't watch all the porn he did. Sooner or later, he was going to find Erik's kink (begging and pleading) and ruin the man. "Charles," he meant to bite out, but it came out more like a plea, "shut the fuck up for a second unless you want this to be over before it even begins." He slipped in another inch. At least he was being honest. Charles bit his bottom lip into his mouth (luckily Erik didn't have to witness this: Charles had turned his face back towards the headboard) and stifled a long, and probably undignified, moan, before burying his face into the waiting pillow.

"Almost there, Charles," Erik said with a huff, trying his damnist to not all out blow his load right then and there: halfway in the teen's hot and slick ass. _Fuck_. This was getting harder and harder by the moment.

"Please Erik."

God. Damnit.

A smack to the boy's hip. "Stop it Charles," he warned. No begging. For the love of God, no begging. Erik gave an experimental thrust forward and soon enough found himself nearly all the way in. (He figured he'd spare the boy his whole length; that took more experience than Charles had. Which was: _zero_.) Christ, Erik didn't know how he even managed to last this long. His balls were just begging for this to be over.

"Jesus Charles," the older man grit out, "you're so fucking tight." He started moving his hips, only slightly though, he didn't want to hurt Charles.

For some reason.

"That's good, right?" Charles got out between harsh breaths, looking back at Erik now: face sweaty and flushed with ecstasy. _Fuck_. Charles needed to turn back around _now_. If he wanted Erik to last longer than a sixteen year old's first time. _Christ_.

"Yes Charles," Erik got out on his own harsh breath. He thrust in again, still slowly. "That's fucking good." Terrible, but good. He squeezed his hand on Charles' hip, hoping it hurt. His other hand found the teen's other side and joined in on the bruising.

"You can go faster," Charles said, "I can take it."

Oh, really? Erik was pretty sure the speed he was accustomed to would not only break the boy, but scar him for life. He didn't want to be the reason why Charles stopped taking it up the ass.

…or did he?

"Charles," Erik bit our painfully, "seriously; you have to shut the hell up, or I won't last." Progressively, everything that was making its way out of Charles' mouth was seemingly getting filthier and filthier.

The fucking tease, he didn't even realize it either.

"Sorry," the brunet said, and then gasped. _Christ_. Fuck it. Erik started all out thrusting into the boy; hands gripping him as to hold him still while his cock started sliding in and out with almost ease.

Almost, again.

"Am I hurting you, Charles?" Erik asked as he watched his cock's length pull out. The boy shook his head—obviously lying— as a small muffled sound wrenched its way out of his throat and Erik was positive it was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. A huff of air came from the older man and Erik began thrusting again, his fingers probably digging small bruises into flesh. "You feel so fucking good Charles," he moaned and Charles copied him.

The bed was squeaking at an alarming rate and the headboard was thumping into the wall like a bed in a cheap motel. But that was okay; Erik wanted to give Charles the fucking of his life. It was only fair.

Because after this, that was it, it was over. For both of them.

"Oh god Erik, right there," the boy cried out at a particular thrust— angle really— and Erik smirked at finding the teen's prostate so quickly. He thought it would've required more work. Erik took pride in the next three minutes or so as he nailed that spot. Repeatedly. With his cock. Finally having the distraction he so desperately needed.

But when he noticed Charles fisting himself, almost frantically, was when Erik faltered. He nearly spurted his load right then and there. He gained control again, then started slamming his hips back into the boy's ass, fucking him with his all. He'd give Charles the porno ending he wanted too.

"Fuck, Erik," Charles cried out as he came, panting and moaning like the naughty little boy he was. And even though Erik couldn't see it, he was positive just by how _wrecked_ Charles sounded; it had been a big load. Charles started to sag down into the bed as his high wore off, but Erik just smacked his ass before hoisting it back up. "Not yet, Charles," he told the boy and begun pumping into him again. Charles' moan was bit off by a gasp when Erik nailed him in a certain spot, undoubtedly the brunet was getting sensitive, but Erik didn't care: he wasn't finished with that ass yet. He fucked him for a few more minutes; his skin flushed red and sweat dotting his body, before Erik finally felt the release he worked so hard for build.

"Shit Charles, going to cum," he rasped out, slamming his hips into the teen a few more times. "Come here," he said quickly, pulling out and forcing Charles on his back to look up at the man above.

Erik was giving him that porno finish, remember?

"Tongue out," he commanded as he ran his hand over his swollen cock, aiming it perfectly at Charles' plump little cocksucking mouth. And Charles complied, like it was all he could do, and watched with wide (and aroused) eyes as Erik's seed shot out and started coating his chin, mouth and tongue. Christ it was a lot of come.

"Jesus fuck," Erik bit out as he decorated Charles with his sticky mess, his breath catching in his throat. It was so fucking beautiful. It was a shame he couldn't have a picture of it. It was frame worthy. And Charles, that life-ruiner, even took care to lick all the come around his mouth- -the come that didn't make it in- -and looked up at Erik with wrecked eyes.

Well, mission accomplished.

"I need a shower," Erik said after a second. He looked down at Charles. "And so do you, you're a mess." Charles just glanced down at his sticky self, fully aware of how messy he was, and then glanced back to the older man.

"We may want to wash the bed sheets too; it reeks of sex in here."

Good point. Erik nodded, still trying to catch his breath as he got off the bed. "Shower first."

"Agreed." Charles stood from the bed as well, just as sweaty as Erik, and the older man brought him into a filthy kiss, swallowing Charles' moan.

When they broke apart, Erik looked dead serious at the boy. "That was it, Charles- -never again- -I gave you the fucking you needed (wanted), but it won't be happening again." He blinked. "You understand what I'm telling you?"

Charles didn't say anything for a moment; he just studied the man's eyes. He knew Erik was telling the truth too, there was no arguing with what he had said. And Charles only knew what he trying to tell him by _how_ he said it. The man had said: it _won't_ happen again, not: it _can't_ happen again.

Sadly, Charles understood.

"I understand," he replied with a whisper.

…

Charles didn't see much of Erik the rest of the weekend, and true to the man's word, they didn't fuck again- -didn't even kiss or share an innocent touch. Charles tried to act like he didn't know what Erik was doing in his room all day Sunday, with the door closed- -but it was hard not to when he already knew in the pit of his stomach.

He didn't even stop by Charles' room on the way out.

The worst was Sunday night though, when Shane came home.

Charles found his father, tears streaming down the man's face, a letter clutched in his hand, as he sobbed on the bed. Shane looked over his shoulder when he realized Charles was watching him, looking as wrecked as one could.

"This is all your fault," his father told him, hand that was holding the letter trembling as he took in a shaky breath.

_Yes_, Charles thought as he looked over and noticed the half empty closet, _it was_.

But not for the reason Shane thought.

…..

Ten years later…

Erik was working on his laptop, sitting in some god-for-sake coffee shop- -and since when did he become one of those people?- -when he realized he should just fire all his employees and replace them with robots. Shit would get done a lot quicker (and better) if he did that.

Humans clearly were not the superior beings here.

He begin typing furiously on his keyboard, trying to decide which employee's hours would be cut when-

"Erik Lehnsherr?"

His head whipped up, because:

That voice, he knew that voice…

_Jesus Christ_.

Breathe. He needs to breathe, because:

"Charles?" He gasped, eyes wide with shock.

The boy—no, not a boy: a _man_—the man nodded, a smile on his face. "Hello Erik."

Heart thumping in his chest, Erik just stared at him. A man, he really was a man now. Look at him.

Hell, Erik couldn't do anything _but_ look at him.

"May I?" Charles asked, motioning to the empty seat. Erik snapped his laptop shut, still staring like a fucking moron, and pushed it aside. It could fall off the table for all he cared. He nodded and Charles sat down.

Finally, with the will of God or some shit like that, Erik found some words. "My god Charles, it's been-"

"Ten years," the brunet finished for him. He smiled again. "I know. It's been a long time, Erik." He glanced at the man's left hand. No ring, that didn't surprise him. "How have you been?"

But Erik couldn't seem to process any of what the boy- _man_, had said, all that came out of his mouth was: "What the hell are you doing in New York?"

A small chuckle, "I work here." He shrugged. "I teach at the university."

Oh. That seemed so very Charles like. "I work here too," Erik stated, obviously.

Another chuckle from Charles, "I figured that much." They stared at each other for a moment, Erik breaking the silence again.

"Have you been… looking for me this whole time?"

Charles gave him an incredulous look. "My god Erik, no; I'm not a stalker. I just so happened to spot you in here today. Trust me; I'm just as taken aback as you are." A pause, in which he lowered his voice. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"I meant for that to happen."

Charles lowered his eyes. "Yes, I know," he muttered. He knew quite well.

There was another beat of silence, until:

"How's your father," Erik found himself asking. (Where _were_ all these words coming from?) His heart started hammering in his chest again, threatening to burst out.

Charles looked back up, meeting Erik's gaze. A smile formed over his face. "He's good," the boy- no, _man_- -replied with a laugh. "He's married you know." Erik arched an eyebrow at this. "To a woman," Charles added, like Erik corrupted the poor man or something. "She's very nice; I liked her a lot when I met her."

Erik nodded. "Good, that's good; your father deserves to be happy." Lord knows Erik couldn't make him. Not after… what happened.

More silence.

"He was devastated, when you left by the way." Charles looked at him, his hands twisting the hem of his shirt. Old habit.

Erik didn't really know how to respond to that. So he settled on: "I had no choice." Charles just nodded.

"I know," he muttered. Both men looked down at the table.

Charles' eyes flashed back up first. "You look good," he said.

Erik's eyes followed, "I look old," he replied dryly. Charles chuckled again, making Erik's heart flutter or something equally as embarrassing that he'd never admit to.

The younger man shook his head. "No Erik, you look good. Well aged." He cocked his head to the side slightly, studying the man. "I like the touch of grey," he pointed out.

Erik ran a hand through his still luscious- -and full- -head of hair. "It's not all grey," he said, "just the sides."

"And I like it."

They met eyes again, something in Erik's chest loosening and tightening. What the hell?

He looked down at Charles' hand. "How are you not married?" he asked, because, why the fuck not? Charles smiled as he glanced down at his ringless finger, and then shrugged.

"Guess I just never found the one." His eyes flashed back up. "Or well, I did but he got away."

Erik swallowed his heart back down into his chest. He wasn't sure if Charles was referring to him or someone else, and he didn't care to know either. He wasn't sure if he could handle either response.

Vigilantly, Charles reached across the table and slid his hand over Erik's (now Erik's heart was _really_ hammering in his chest. It was going to burst, any second now). "But the real question is: how are _you_ not married, my friend." Erik just looked down at their combined hands, his heartbeat sounding awfully loud in his own ears, and glanced back up.

"I don't know," he breathed. "I guess… the same reason as you." Or maybe because he just threw himself into work and swore off relationships forever.

Charles smiled at him, his fingers weaving in-between Erik's.

Well, maybe not forever.

THE END

**A/N: Just to clear anything up that may have been confusing: Shane never did find out about Charles and Erik. He thought Erik left because of Charles; because Erik never wanted kids. All the note said was: _I'm sorry, I just can't do this. I'll always love you_. Erik obviously left because 1) what he did to Shane, and 2) he knew he wouldn't be able to not sleep with Charles again. Despite what Erik thought, or how he acted, he was starting to develop feelings for the boy. He got out before it all went to shit. Charles knew all this too, which was why he didn't stop him. Erik changed his number too, so Shane couldn't reach him. He kind of just fell off the radar, disappeared without a trace.**

**Until Charles found him years later of course.**

**And even though Charles knew about his father remarrying and such, they were already estranged by that point in the story (him and Erik meeting again).**

**Thanks for reading!**


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